


Help I'm Alive

by IronSwordStarShield (SweetFanfics)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Changing everything after Winter Soldier, Developing Friendships, F/M, Falling In Love, Fix-It, M/M, POV Alternating, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 11:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 57,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18850153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/IronSwordStarShield
Summary: Bucky moves silently, following Stark to his car. He presses the gun muzzle lightly against the base of Stark’s neck causing the man to start and freeze.“Didn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to try and hold me at gunpoint. Least of all in the basement of my own office building.”“I’m not going to hurt you. I just want your help.”“You’ve got a funny way of doing that. Most people use the suggestion box.”In a blink, Bucky’s pulled the gun away, flipped it on his finger, and turned it around so that Stark can grab it if he wants. In another, he moves to stand in Stark’s line of sight. Dark eyes flit from his face, to the gun, and back at his face.“I’m a funny guy,” Bucky answers dryly, letting the gun drop from his hand and onto the ground between Stark’s polished shoes.--Where Bucky decides to go to Tony for help instead of staying on the run. Friendships are formed, tested, strengthened, along with romances.





	Help I'm Alive

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this fic almost a whole year ago (Jun 1 2018) because while talking with a friend, I got seriously peeved with Bucky's narrative in the mcu. It feels to me that not only did things keep happening to him but he didn't get a lot of choice on what happens to his own life. This coupled with finding some Tony & Bucky comic panels at the right time, I decided to write this fic that I've been lovingly called "Bucky & Tony friendship fic" lol
> 
> Unbeta-d cuz editing this would have taken another year so enjoy~ errors and all lol
> 
> I dunno jack shit bout the US legal system. So, all mistakes in that area, are my goof-ups.
> 
> This fic wouldn't have been completed with Jini, who is a total rockstar <3
> 
>  **Additional Notes:** Bucky's going to deal with his PTSD so there's elements of that, including him experiencing a panic attack. The fic opens with Bucky accidentally hurting someone because he has a back flashback. Tony accidentally triggers Bucky at one point. 
> 
> If there's any tag missing, please lemme know and I'll add it in!
> 
> I commissioned the EVER so talented mirthandstar to make something for this fic and as you can see, they DELIVERED. [You can reblog the piece on tunglr too!](https://ironswordandstarshield.tumblr.com/post/184965620805/he-doesnt-know-how-it-happens-but-one-minute-hes)

The kid had just wanted to check out his arm. He shouldn’t have indulged the kid with their magpie bright eyes and curious questions. But it had been a good day so far. So Bucky had let his guard down. He’d crouched down next to the kid, pulled his jacket up and let the kid touch the cool metal.

 

Whoever said the road to Hell was paved with good intentions was right.

 

He doesn’t know what triggers the flashback, but it happens. In the immediate aftermath, all Bucky can focus on is how cold he feels and how loudly the kid is crying as they hold their arm against their chest. Despite the layers, it’s easy enough to see the rapid swelling. There’s no denying the truth.

 

 _Shit,_ Bucky sweats as he staggers back, turning tail and running as concerned voices rise around him. _I broke that kids arm_.

 

Logically, he knows that was an accident but his guilt is stronger. Jet black and oil-slick, Bucky feels himself being swallowed whole by the ugly sensation, fingertips trembling as he tries to grab the key to his room and stick it into its slot.

 

 _Get in, get in, get in_!

 

The lock gives way under his strength, screeching as he twists the door open and slams it back close behind him. Bucky pressed his back against the door and let gravity take over. He put his head in his heads and squeezed, wishing there was some way for things to stop. For his body to be in control. For his _mind_ to be under his control.

 

He can’t live like this, constantly on the run, hyper vigilant for enemies, and constantly afraid that overhearing one wrong word in the middle of innocent civilians may result in him losing control. And Steve would eventually catch up. Bucky knew this. The man was more tenacious than a bloodhound. And who knew what would happen when they faced off. There was no telling what kind of programming may be in place for dealing with someone like Captain America.

 

The urge to cry swelled up in him, causing his throat to close up and his eyes to burn. Bucky blinked furiously, raising his head up to stare at the ceiling. He gently thumps his head against the wooden door, wondering, wondering, wondering what to do.

 

On the other side of the hallway, in the room across from his, someone’s got the TV on too loud. It’s a news report. The anchor is talking about a new product that’s recently been released by Stark Industries and how people have lined up for hours before shops opened to get their hands on the item in question.

 

“Several of the Avengers have been seeing carrying this phone design around before it became market ready. Most prominently, one Captain America! As you can see in this video, the superhero was seen using his phone to look up s-”

 

Bucky raises his head at the billionaires name and he wonders...

 

No...

 

It’s risky...

 

But the man _did_ have a history of sticking his neck out to help people...

 

So maybe...

 

Just maybe...

 

\--

 

Board meetings are a necessary evil and an important part of an organization’s smooth running because it keeps information flowing and allows the shareholders to not only feel part of the process of running the organization, but also keeps them abreast of what’s happening. They’re also, if you ask Tony, a complete snooze fest when they’re not talking about the latest products they’ll be introducing. Not that financials, operations, or whatever matters aren’t important but... they’re boring. It’s really fucking boring to sit there, listening to some person prattle on about the capital expenditure and cash flow and depreciation rates. Make a report for fuck’s sake. That’ll save everyone time.

 

He tells Pepper as much on their way out the building. She dryly reminds him that if that were true then more people would read the quarterly financial statements and be up-to-date with what’s happening internally.

 

“And that would just be for the people inside the company. Board members still have to be updated on what’s going on. That’s half the point.”

 

“We could send them mini-reports. I’m just saying,” Tony complains as they step out of the elevator and into the ground floor lobby. “Annual financial reports anyone? They exist! They’re a thing! And think about this. The way we do board meetings right now is inefficient. It takes at least 4 hours, there’s a lot of repetitive bullshitting, and-”

 

Tony stops mid-step and turns around sharply, dark eyes sweeping over the large crowd wandering in and out of the security gates. Pepper stops two steps ahead when she realizes that Tony’s not following.

 

“Tony?” she asks, “Is something wrong?”

 

Nothing seems out of the ordinary. It’s the regular hustle and bustle of employees doing their jobs. And yet...Tony pulls his cell phone out and directs JARVIS to do a quick sweep of the lobby. See if any faces ping anything on any of the watchdog lists or the Avengers lists.

 

He holds a finger up to Pepper, watching JARVIS go through the different faces wandering through the lobby and run them through a quick facial recognition scan. Pepper steps up next to him, a warm presence against his side as she peers down at the phone too. Quietly, she asks, “Did you see someone?”

 

“No. I just got the feeling that someone was watching.”

 

Discreetly, under the guise of boredom, Pepper glances around before looking back at Tony. “Everything looks normal.”

 

His phone chimes in agreement. No deviants, terrorists, or generally dangerous individuals are walking through his office building today. Tony makes a face before putting his phone away, mumbling, “My paranoia is getting the better of me.”

 

“Just because you’re paranoid it doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you.”

 

Tony’s mouth drops a little as he asks Pepper, “Why’d you go and say _that_?”

 

His CEO cheekily grins back.

 

\--

 

Bucky watches from the shadows as Tony Stark shoos the red haired woman and a portly man into the car. The sub-basement parking area has good enough acoustics that Bucky doesn’t have to strain his hearing to hear the man telling the pair to “skedaddle” and enjoy their engagement period for God’s sake.

 

He waits for them to leave before making his move. Bucky moves silently, following Stark to his car, waiting for the man to pull his keys out before slipping into place and pulling his gun out. He presses the muzzle lightly against the base of Stark’s neck, just enough to make its presence known, causing the man to start and freeze.

 

“Didn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to try and hold me at gunpoint,” the man quips, voice far too cheery to be natural. “Least of all in the basement of my own office building.”

 

There’s nothing in his tone to imply he’s worried; Stark’s got a good poker face. Bucky’s not surprised. After everything he’s been through, it’d be sloppy not. He’s got a weird sense of humor through if he’s going to be blase right now. Is that part of the facade or the man’s personality? He’ll have to see.

 

“I’m not going to hurt you. I just want your help.”

 

“You’ve got a funny way of doing that. Most people use the suggestion box.”

 

In a blink, Bucky’s pulled the gun away, flipped it on his finger, and turned it around so that Stark can grab it if he wants. In another, he moves to stand in Stark’s line of sight. Stark doesn’t jump but it feels like a close call given the tension thrumming in his body. Dark eyes flit from his face, to the gun, and back at his face. There’s a small twitch in Stark’s fingers but he doesn’t make to take the gun.

 

“I’m a funny guy,” Bucky answers dryly, letting the gun drop from his hand and onto the ground between Stark’s polished shoes.

 

Stark stares at the gun for a long moment before turning his appraising eyes up. He looks Bucky up and down, taking in the muddied boots, torn jeans, and faded t-shirt before asking, “If you’re going to ask me to make you a weapon or give you the plans to the arc reactor, you’ve got another thing coming.”

 

“I need help with this,” Bucky pulls the glove off his right hand, revealing the metallic limb to the billionaire’s wary gaze.

 

Stark’s eyes go wide, in surprise and wonder, before narrowing distrustfully. “What’s your story?”

 

Bucky takes a deep breath and says, “My name is Bucky Barnes. And-”

 

“ _Bucky Barnes_?” Stark interrupts sharply. “You’ve got a lot of nerve picking that name.”

 

“Pretty sure my Ma picked it.”

 

Stark stares at him, gaze ice cold and sharp. It brings back a sudden memory of standing on top of a mountain trying hard not to shiver because the wind is so cold. He’s pulled out of the flashback when Stark pulls a slim device out of his pocket.

 

“JARVIS. Scan this guy. Let’s see if we can’t find him in the DMV.”

 

“Would be easier if you pull up my picture...” Bucky suggests.

 

“That’s what we’re gonna do.”

 

“You’re not going to find me in the DMV.”

 

“Sir. No matches found.”

 

Tony stares at his phone with a dark scowl before muttering, “What about-”

 

“Could you... Please look up Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Of the 107th Infantry Division. Take my blood, do a DNA test. I’m the real Bucky Barnes.”

 

Perhaps it’s the conviction in his voice that gives Stark pause. Or maybe it occurs to him to just humor Bucky. But Stark stops to eye him carefully before he pulls a crisp one handkerchief out of pocket. “I don’t make it a habit to carry vials around to tap someone’s vein but I’ll need some blood or spit to use for testing.”

 

Bucky takes the handkerchief, immediately captures a small piece of flesh inside his mouth, and worries it with his teeth until he can taste blood. He sucks on it to draw more blood out before letting it drop in the center of the folded up cloth. Stark pulls a face as he accepts the soiled cloth back and holds it like he’s holding a dirty baby diaper.

 

“Right. I’ll just... use this to see if you are who you say you are and then burn this handkerchief. What a waste of good cotton. Where are you staying?”

 

“Kamway Lodge. It’s-”

 

Stark flaps an impatient hand. “I’ll find it. I’ll send you a message in a day or two.”

 

With a stiff nod, Bucky moves to walk away, leaving his gun at Stark’s feet. He hears the shuffle of Stark’s shoes against concrete and the slow exhale he lets out.

 

“Hey!” Bucky stops and turns around. Stark asks, “What do you need help with anyways?”

 

Bucky holds his right hand up again before tapping against the side of his head.

 

Stark makes a face. “I’m not a therapist.”

 

“But you _are_ an engineering genius.”

 

The curiosity in Stark’s eyes burns brighter.

 

“Why me? There’s other people out there who could help I bet.”

 

That’s an easy question. Bucky doesn't have to think twice about his answer. “But you’re the one who works with Steve. And if Steve trusts you to have his back, then I trust you to have mine.”

 

\--

 

Tony stares at the results on his screen, finally past his sheer disbelief and deep into curiosity. How was it possible for Bucky Barnes to still be alive? All reports claimed that he died a little before Steve Rogers went under the ice. Physically, it doesn’t look like the man has aged since the 40's. Sure there’s the longer hair and the shaggy beard but they’re not the thing adding 10 years to his face; that would be the haunted look in his eyes. It’s the look of a man seeking absolution and not knowing where to find it. It's a look Tony's too familiar with it.

 

Tony ignores the memory of seeing his reflection for the first time after being saved and takes a sip of his whiskey. He moves in half-circles on his stool, twisting right and left as he wonders what should he do. It boils down to a simple choice: Does he want to help Bucky Barnes or not?

 

Tony strums his fingers against the table, thinking back to Barnes’ parting words. That he was putting his trust in Tony, essentially a complete stranger, all because Steve Rogers (supposedly) trusted him. He can’t help but snort a little because where’d the man get _that_ impression from? Just because they fought on the same team together? It doesn’t have to mean anything more than that.

 

Or maybe that’s exactly what Barnes meant. That he could trust Tony in a similar capacity: professionally.

 

Making a face, Tony finishes the last of the whiskey and slides the heavy glass to the other end of the table. He can respect that. Tony slides forward towards the holographic display. “JARVIS. Send a message to Bucky Barnes at the Kamway Lodge. Tell him to come to the Tower tomorrow, 3PM. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

 

\--

 

Five minutes before 3PM finds Bucky standing on the sidewalk across from Stark Tower. New York walks around him, uncaring and perhaps a little annoyed with how he’s not moving with the pedestrian flow. Bucky ignores them in favor of staring the imposing building down.

 

Stark’s message had named the location and time, with no details about where he should enter from. The front entrance seems like the easiest answer but every instinct in him tells him not to. You never enter from the front door. A back door, or better yet, an unconventional entry point, would be his best bet. But that wouldn’t scream trustworthy, wouldn’t it?Praying for the best, Bucky walks across the street towards Stark Tower’s main entrance. It’s highly polished, tinted glass. Bucky wonders if Stark has hired someone to just walk around and polish the glass all damn day long. That or maybe he’s invented something that keeps the material clean as a whistle.

 

The security guard gives him a long hard look, taking in Bucky’s long, unkempt hair, the dirty jeans, the wrinkled t-shirt, the unshaven cheeks, before asking, “Name.”

 

“Bucky Barnes. I’ve got a meeting with Mr. Stark.”

 

A disbelieving eyebrow goes up before he pulls a radio off his belt. Bucky holds his breath as the man confirms this with a lady on the other end before stepping back. “Take the elevator on your left. It’ll take you to Mr. Stark.”

 

The elevator is a sleek chrome beast that zips him up from the ground floor lobby to the middle of a lavish suite. Bucky takes one step and freezes, feeling _incredibly_ out of place. He glances around, wondering if there’s been some kind of mistake when the man in question walks into the room, walking a mile a minute.

 

“Tell the China team I want to look their numbers over first thing. I want to compare their results with the Australian team and see what’s causing such a huge discrepancy. 10% makes a world of a difference in the battery life Pepper, believe me when I say that. Yeah. Yeah. First thing in the morning, okay? _Our_ morning Pepper, it’s always our morning. Well okay fine, _tomorrow_ morning then. Yeah. Thank you.”

 

Stark puts the phone away in his back pocket, turns to Bucky, and claps his hands. “Sergeant. Welcome to Stark Tower aka Avengers Tower. You wanna tell me what your problem is so we can get started?”

 

Right to business. Okay. Bucky shifts into parade rest before he asks, “How much do you know about me?”

 

There’s no way Stark’s not done his research. He’s had to have dug in deep into his past and tried to figure out why he’s still alive. But whether or not he knows that Bucky was under HYDRA’s grip for all these decades...

 

“Not a whole lot. Your name, rank, HYDRA name... how you died.” Stark’s eyes gleam with curiosity when he asks, “How come you’re still alive?”

 

“I don’t know. HYDRA kept me on ice in between missions. I don’t...remember much.” 

 

He doesn’t have the words to describe the fog that sits heavy in his mind. How it shrouds his memories and feels impossible to move no matter what he tries. Stark inhales sharply. Bucky looks up at that. There’s a grim pinch to Stark’s lips.

 

“I’d found that in the SHIELD leaks. There was some stuff in there talking about they kept tinkering with you. They’d said it was _possible_ you were HYDRA’s pet guinea pig but there wasn’t enough proof.”

 

Rubbing his wrist, Bucky says, “I don’t remember a lot but I remember the fall. I remember...how cold it was. I remember being taken to a lab. It was HYDRA. I remember...” He shakes away the memory of waking up and feeling confused as to why someone would paint a skull over an octopus. “Long story short, they brainwashed me, gave me a new arm, and turned me into their assassin puppet.”

 

He expects Stark to ask for details but oddly, the doesn’t. Stark’s sharp eyes dart over his figure, reading who knows what before he moves towards the other side of the room. Bucky stands in place, frozen until Stark stops at the doorway and says, “Come on. I don’t think this is a conversation we should have while standing. And you look like you could use a drink.”

 

Alcohol doesn’t do a lot for him but right now, he’d like something that’ll warm him up. Gratefully, Bucky follows Stark into the kitchen and takes a seat at the island. While Stark putters around on the other side, Bucky examines the room. It’s upscale, all marble and steel. Effortlessly classy. It doesn’t look like it’s used a lot.

 

He’s in the middle of wondering what’s the best exit route, an unbreakable habit by this point, when Stark plops a mug in front of him. Bucky blinks down in surprise at the coffee.

 

“You want milk or sugar with that?”

 

“Yeah, thanks.” Stark puts a small sugar pot and jug of milk in front of him. Bucky adds a sugar cube and a splash of milk before stirring the mixture around. “This isn’t what I was expecting when you said drink.”

 

Snorting, Stark takes a seat across from him. “Too early in the day. And I’m trying to change my ways. But if you want something stronger...”

 

“No,” Bucky wraps his hands around the warm mug. It’s a little too hot but it keeps him in the moment. “This is fine.” He waits for Stark to finish taking his sip before asking, “What else do you want to know?”

 

“What do you need my help with? Specifically?”

 

\--

 

Tony taps his fingers against the dark marble contemplatively. Barnes nervously stares back.

 

“Fixing your arm and taking out any HYDRA code shouldn’t be difficult. That’s just programming. In fact, I recommend dumping the whole arm into the nearest trash compactor. I can make you a new one, a better one. Something less heavy and painful, and better nerve connections. Don’t think I can’t hear your arm grinding like someone tossed a wrench in there.”

 

He exhales shortly and looks up at Bucky. Tony can’t sugarcoat the next part. “The brainwashing part...that’s not my specialty.”

 

Barnes’s hopeful gaze wilts a little at his admission.

 

“But,” Tony continues, “Let’s see what we can do. I’m going to need to know everything you know. All the dirty details, no skipping out on me. The more I know, the more likely I’ll be able to help you.”

 

Barnes shoulders slump with obvious relief. His voice shakes with gratitude so deep Tony wants to squirm. “Thank you.”

 

“Don’t thank me just yet.”

 

Thankfully, Barnes takes a sip of his coffee instead of arguing back. Tony leans back and says, “JARVIS. Start a new project, Code Name: Bourne Identity. On my private server.”

 

“Who are you talking too?” Barnes asks.

 

Tony points a finger up at the ceiling, “My AI. Say hi JARVIS.”

 

“Greetings, Sergeant Barnes.”

 

Barnes’s reaction is just a little disappointing. His eyebrows rise up with the mildest expression of surprise. If Tony’s not mistaken, there’s even a faint spark of delight in his eyes. “That’s amazing. A lot better than a flying car.”

 

He’s not sure what the man means by that but Tony ignores it. He drains the last of his coffee before slamming the mug back down. “Okay. Let’s go down to the lab. We need to run diagnostics on your arm. See if we can map your brain and its pathways. I’ve had this idea about tapping into your old memories that I’ve been thinking about developing and now’s a good a time as any. Let’s get cracking.”

 

Tony walks ahead of him to the elevator, stepping inside with Barnes, and lets JARVIS taken them to his lab, mind racing as he maps out a plan. First thing he needs to do is study the arm. How is it connected, what kind of mechanisms are being used, and most importantly, is there any piece of malicious code hiding in the mess that might turn on him.

 

 _If I’m lucky, trying to figure out how the arm works is going to tell me about the programming used against him. If HYDRA was smart, there’d be some connection between the hardware and the software. And if that connection exists, I can trace it back to the source while doing the brain mapping and see what needs to reversed. I’ll see if Hank McCoy can lend me some materials on_ -

 

He’s barely two steps into his lab when a shocked noise from behind him makes him turn around. Barnes is standing in the glass doorway, eyes wide open as they dart around Tony’s lab. Tony can’t help but grin because _that’s_ the face he was hoping to see.

 

“What is this place?” Barnes asks breathlessly.

 

Tony gestures with both arms and a grin, “Disneyland but _better_! Come on. Let’s get you set up... uh....” He looks around and wonders what’s the best place to conduct this particular experiment. “JARVIS. Where’s that examination chair I had down here?”

 

“It is currently in storage. Shall I direct one of the bots to bring it out?”

 

“Yeah. Tell them to set up uhh... somewhere over there.” He points deep into the lab, somewhere out of the way his Iron Man suit works and the Stark Industries R&D work. “Come on in already Barnes. Nothing in here’s gonna bite. But watch your step. One of the bots might bump into you.”

 

Barnes stops mid-step, looking around in mild alarm like he expects someone to come barreling out of nowhere. As it so happens, it turns out to be a good move, because DUM-E rolls out of whatever corner he’s been hiding in with a happy chirp and a drink in its claw. Tony puts his hands on his hips as the bot rolls to a stop in front of him and aggressively shoves the green drink into Tony’s face.

 

“What is this? I didn’t ask for this.”

 

DUM-E beeps and literally pushes the drink into Tony’s nose. He takes a step back before the bot tries to put the glass up against his mouth. “What’s up with you, you stubborn brat? I didn’t ask for this.”

 

“I believe DUM-E’s concerned you haven’t had lunch.”

 

“For fucks sake,” Tony curses, grabbing the drink out of the bots hand before putting it down on the nearest clear space on the table. He points at the bot, who’s camera lowers to stare at the glass before rising up to look back at Tony. “I’ll have lunch when I’m hungry! I had a big breakfast! And I don’t need you acting like my mother when it comes to my- Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

 

“To make another smoothie, sir.”

 

“DUM-E, you better put that blender down or else I’m gonna break you down into a roomba.”

 

The bot whines, waving the blender in its claw but Tony points a finger at it. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

 

With a sad beep, DUM-E puts the blender down. Tony nods in approval. “Now. Get Butterfingers and U and find my examination chair. We’re going to need it while working with Barnes.”

 

DUM-E raises his camera to peer back at Barnes before letting out an inquisitive series of beeps. “Yeah, that’s Barnes. Don’t creep up on him, don’t interrupt him when we’re working here, and _don’t_ give him any drinks that JARVIS hasn’t approved, okay?”

 

The whine DUM-E lets out sounds insulted almost but Tony knows better. “Barnes. That warning goes for you too. Don’t drink anything DUM-E hands you. It might look healthy but it might have motor oil in it.”

 

“Motor oil?” Barnes chokes out.

 

“He’s an idiot that way,” Tony fondly pats DUM-E’s camera. The bot presses up against the touch. With one last pat, Tony points over to the other two bots sitting quietly in their charging stations. “Get the others. Examination chair.”

 

DUM-E obligingly rolls away to charge next to his siblings. Tony watches them move away with a smile before turning back to Barnes, who is staring at the bots. “Are they...aware?”

 

“You mean, are they AI too? Yeah. DUM-E was the first AI I ever made. He’s nowhere near JARVIS in terms of... well. Every thing. Neither are U and Butterfingers but they’re a lot more put together than DUM-E. That’s the difference between coding drunk and not drunk. Take a seat over here. I want to get inside that arm of yours.”

 

“Lunch, sir?” JARVIS reminds him.

 

“After I’ve scanned this arm, puddin’.”

 

\--

 

One of the few clear memories Bucky has left from his time before the... _Before_ , was visiting the Stark Expo with Steve. He very keenly remembers the awe and wonder he’d felt viewing the different exhibits, especially Howard Stark’s flying car. Never mind that it hadn’t ended successfully. It was a _flying car_!

 

Seeing Stark’s lab brings that memory and those feelings back. This lab is wondrously futuristic, filled with displays that hover in mid-air, showing calculations and figures that Bucky can’t even start to make sense of. And then there’s Stark’s robots.

 

They don’t look anything like the robot’s Bucky imagined or the robot’s in Steve’s comics. And the fact that they have personalities? It’s _mind blowing_. It’s overwhelming as well, sitting in the middle of so much tech, having his arm gently pried open to be examined. He doesn’t realize that until he realizes he’s feeling a little short of breath and his palm is starting to sweat against his knee.

 

His heart almost leaps out of his chest when Stark’s AI coolly states, “Sir, Sergeant Barnes heartbeat is rising. And I detect a drop in body temperature.”

 

With a screwdriver between his teeth and his fingers deep inside the metallic joint of his arm, Stark mumbles, “Izzit cuz I’ve got thish wire twishted up?”

 

Bucky shakes his head. He struggles to find his voice, hoarsely managing to croak. “It’ll go away.”

 

He opens his mouth to tell Stark just give it some time. The cold sweats, the palpitations, it’ll go away soon enough. Keep working. Don’t stop.

 

Stark however, doesn’t listen. He takes a step back, stares at him before asking, in a voice so gentle that Bucky feels something twist painfully inside of him. “Are you having a panic attack?”

 

“What’s... that?”

 

The curse that falls from Stark’s lips doesn’t reach Bucky’s ears. There’s an odd numbing sensation that’s creeping over his fingers. _That hasn’t happened before_ , he thinks distantly. Bucky blinks when Stark stands in front of him and asks, “Is it hard for you to breathe?”

 

Bucky nods. Stark does something and a display comes to life in front of Bucky’s eyes. It’s a circle. Dark blue border, soft blue on the inside. As he watches, the word “exhale” appears in the center, the dark border spreading to the inside. Exhale changes to “inhale” the dark blue retreating.

 

“Do it,” Tony urges softly. “Breath in. Breath out.”

 

He follows the instructions, struggling at first to regulate his breathing but managing to follow along soon enough. Gradually, the numbing, buzzing sound in his ears fades away. The display changes, directing him to tighten his feet muscles, hold for 10 seconds, and then relax. He moves through several muscles this way before finally, he’s directed through a few more breathing exercises. When the display blinks out of life, Bucky exhales. Stark’s seated next to him, quietly contemplating him.

 

“How often does that happen?”

 

Bucky pauses to think about it. “A couple of times a week. I don’t know why it happens.”

 

Stark’s quiet for a while before he runs a hand through his messy hair, sighing. “JARVIS. Collect everything we’ve got about PTSD, triggers, and panic attacks. Get the basics together and pull it up for Barnes to read.”

 

Directive given, Stark turns to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize this could be too much for you. Next time, if anything’s making you uncomfortable? Let me know. I don’t want to trigger you again.”

 

He’s not sure what Stark means by that term but tentatively nods anyways. The previous display comes to life in front of him again. Bucky stares at it before asking, “Should I read this now?”

 

“Not really. But I think it’ll be good for you to read up about this so that you know what to do the next time you get... like that.”

 

Bucky tilts his head, wondering aloud, “Could you give me something to take this with me to the motel? I’ve got a burner phone and I don’t think I’ll be able to read all of this on it.”

 

Stark frowns deeply at the inquiry. “Motel? You’re not going back to that rats nest.”

 

“I’m not?” Bucky asks in surprise.

 

“You’re going to stay here with me in the Tower. It’ll be easier for both of us.”

 

That’s... surprising. Bucky stares at Stark long and hard enough that the man sighs. “It makes _sense_ for you to stay here. It’s safer to stay with me. JARVIS can help you out if you need anything. And I can hide you better.”

 

 _That_ catches Bucky’s attention, sending a frizzle of worry through him. “Has someone been looking for me?”

 

Stark’s lips twitch up on one side in a sardonic smile. “Rogers. After he brought down SHIELD, he’s been putting out feelers looking for you. You’re good though. He hasn’t been able to get a solid lead for weeks.”

 

A few choice curses rise up and rest on the tip of Bucky’s tongue. He pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering, “дерьмо.”

 

“I don’t know what that whole thing is about,” Stark says innocently. _Too_ innocently. Bucky looks up, not believing the man at all. Stark meets his eyes and shrugs. “I wasn’t told anything so I don’t know anything. I was too busy digging into the SHIELD leaks to find any information that could have compromised field agents or posed a threat to me or the other Avengers.”

 

His grin turns mischievous when he says, “That’s the official story at least.”

 

“And what’s the unofficial story?” Bucky asks, unable to stop himself from grinning in return.

 

“Unofficially,” Stark begins, “I might have spent a couple of hours going through all the SHIELD footage I could get my hands on to find out what _other_ tech of mine got co-opted by SHIELD for their shitty project. Footage that included seeing you and Rogers fight.”

 

He gets an admiring look here. “You’re a good fighter. I don’t know anyone else who can go toe-to-toe with Rogers and come out on top.”

 

Bucky tries not to squirm uncomfortably. Stark shrugs and carries on, “Anyways. After that fight, Rogers came to me asking if I could make a software that’d help him use public cameras to find someone. I helped him out but never asked _who_ he was looking for.”

 

“Then how do you know it was me?”

 

“I may or may not have used a backdoor into the software to take a peek into who Steve was looking for. He was using an old picture of you, back when you were in the Army.”

 

“Then how come you didn’t recognize me when I met you?”

 

“Who says I didn’t?” Bucky can’t help but stare the man down because _that_ sounds like complete and utter bullshit. Stark sighs before admitting, “I thought it was bullshit. There was no way you could have survived. It wasn’t possible. I thought Rogers was chasing a ghost or was looking for one of your relatives. Mostly? I didn’t care what Rogers did.”

 

That’s... a little weird to hear.

 

“I thought you guys were teammates? Avengers?”

 

“Yeah? So? That doesn’t mean we poke our noses into each other's business. We only come together when the world’s at stake.” Stark’s voice lowers into a bitter mumble as he continues, “Never mind that we should have gotten together when the President was kidnapped or when they realized SHIELD was fucking compromised. But I guess that wasn’t important enough.”

 

That...sounds like a can of worms he _doesn’t_ want to stick his fingers into it. Bucky knows a sore spot when he sees one. He just makes a mental note of the comment and let's Tony carry on with his work.

 

\--

 

It can be argued that most things Tony does? They’re bad choices. Tony would retort that’s just a bad description of a risk taker. A visionary. Also, what’s engineering if you don’t decide to say ‘to hell with it’ and do something anyways? 

 

But sometimes, Tony admits that he makes flat out _shitty_ choices.

 

\--

 

Bucky doesn’t understand what happens. One minute he’s sitting there, trying to make sense of all the readings displayed on the screens before them. The next, he’s got Stark pinned against the wall, his arm pressing so hard against the man’s throat he can’t do anything except writhe and choke.

 

Bucky staggers back with a blink, reaching back for something to keep him upright because vertigo’s a bitch. He slaps against something, misses, and the world tips to the side. He follows with it, realizing he’s fallen on his ass but unable to do anything except skitter back, back, back and away from Stark’s bent over figure, a hand around his throat as he wheezes.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” someone’s chanting through the fog.

 

He hits something, jumping to stare wide eyed at what he just banged into. It’s the bot with a claw for a face. It lowers its camera to peer at Bucky but he yells and kicks at it. The bot whirrs in concern as it teeters on its wheels. Bucky makes for the door but finds them closed.

 

He can’t be here.

 

He needs to go. Somewhere he can’t hurt anyone else.

 

But banging against the walls does nothing. Punching them with his metal fist doesn’t even leave a scratch.

 

“Please open up, I can’t be here, I can’t hurt someone again.”

 

Oh. That’s him. He’s the one apologizing and begging. So hard that he starts to hyperventilate. He’s on his knees, staring at his dirty, baggy jeans, fists against the glass, struggling to get air in his lungs. Blackness creeps across his vision. There’s a spot of warmth born on his elbow. Someone’s talking to him but Bucky can’t understand the words.

 

(“Barnes? Barnes? Fuck. Okay. Let’s get you up off the floor.”)

 

It feels soft and comforting however. The warmth slowly, slowly spreads. He feels his body being helped up to his feet. He wants to say he can’t walk.

 

(“Don’t worry, we’ve got you. DUM-E, support only. Carefully.”)

 

It’s so cold. So damn cold.

 

(“JARVIS, turn up the heat. Three degrees.”)

 

The voice is louder now but still fuzzy. Bucky realizes he’s sitting up now. Being held in place with firm hands on his shoulder. And something else against his side, slim, cold, metallic. Inhuman.

 

(“It’s just DUM-E. He’s keeping you vertical. You can lean on him harder. DUM-E, stay steady. I’m gonna go grab some water.”)

 

Bucky tries to touch the thing against his side but his fingertips are numb. He can’t make sense of the shape no matter how much he tries. Within an age and a second, someone presses something wet and cold into his palm. Bucky jumps.

 

(“Just me. It’s water. You should drink some.”)

 

There’s gentle pressure applied under his limp wrist, raising it up, up, up, until the cool water touches his lips. Bucky swallows, guzzling the liquid down until there’s nothing else. The empty bottle is taken out of his hand and replaced with something smaller, rectangular.

 

(“Slow sips this time. Hope you like apple juice.”)

 

There’s something pressing against his bottom lip. Somewhere in his mind, the item is processed as a straw and Bucky opens his mouth. One suck and sweet, tart apple juice bursts to life against his tongue. The sharp sensation shakes some of the darkness away.

 

Bucky doesn’t blink but gradually, his vision clears up.

 

Stark’s standing in front of him, handsome face lined with worry. He can’t help but glance down at the man’s neck and wince. There’s already a deep bruise against his Adam’s apple. Stark’s lips form the shape of Bucky’s name. He blinks heavily, unable to shake the fatigue that’s fallen on his shoulders.

 

“Barnes?” he finally manages to hear.

 

Swallowing the juice, Bucky replies, “What happened?”

 

“Best guess? Panic attack. How you feeling?”

 

Fuck. Stark’s voice sounds like his vocal chords are scraping against sandpaper.

 

Bucky focuses on the question. How does he feel?

 

Heavy. Broken. Apologetic beyond words.

 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what-”

 

But Tony is quick to interrupt him. “It was my fault. I poked you from behind with a screwdriver. I wanted to test your reaction time with the arm.”

 

 _What_?

 

That’s _the dumbest_ thing he’s ever heard? Doesn’t this man have a sensible bone in his body? What kind of an idiot would _do that_?

 

Stark must read all that in his expression because he smiles sheepishly. “It’s not as fast as human reaction time but it’s leagues faster than the best prosthetics available in the market.”

 

He doesn’t know what to think. What to feel. Emotions gone wild, giggles rise up and pour out of Bucky. It doesn’t take long for them to turn into sobs.

 

(That's when Stark apologizes again.)

 

\--

 

It’s not that Tony hates asking for help. It’s not that. He just hates asking _Richard Reed_ for help. He wants the record to state that _clearly_.

 

Pepper is wrong when she says that he just hates Reed _period,_ because that’s wrong. Tony likes the guy well enough. But asking him for help is the worst because he’ll unintentionally make you feel like an idiot, super genius status be damned. It’s also entirely possible that most of his ire lies in the way Reed had chided him for literally poking Barnes to get a reaction out of him.

 

“I don’t need to tell you how dangerous and ill-advised that was.”

 

The hypocrisy of that statement had made him bray out a laugh. That had led to a condescending lecture that has Tony resolving to choke Reed the next time they met in person. Tony’s trying to massage his Reed induced headache away when JARVIS tells him that Barnes is coming downstairs. He processes that but doesn’t reply. It’s more important to mutter under his breath about why it’s important to ask Reeds for help and why he shouldn’t act like a jackass towards him. Barnes’ progress depends on this.

 

He’s still angrily muttering to himself when his lab doors open and Barnes cautiously asks, “You okay?”

 

Tony looks up, darkly grumbling, “No. But I’ll probably feel better if someone could inject some fucking humility in Reeds.”

 

Barnes pauses for a moment, clearly wondering how serious Tony is before holding up a large paper bag with Katz written on it. “I got us lunch.”

 

Tony immediately clears space, by which he means he sweeps everything in front of him to the left and tells DUM-E to grab two water bottles from the mini-fridge. As Barnes puts the bag down and pulls out the sandwiches, sliding one of them over to Tony he says, “I asked JARVIS for your order. I figured you must have gone there at some point.’’

 

DUM-E skids to a stop next to the table, carefully dropping two bottles of water onto the surface before beeping away.

 

“You guessed right.” Tony eagerly peeled the wrap off. The smell of brisket and gravy makes him moan with delight. It’s been _too_ long since he’s indulged in one of these sandwiches. Without waiting, Tony takes a large bite of the sandwich and chews on it with great relish. Just as good as he remembers.

 

With a happy wriggle, Tony opens his eyes and sees Barnes smiling in amusement. “What’d you get?”

 

Barnes holds up his own sandwich. “Roast beef. You want fries?”

 

If his hands weren’t busy cradling his sandwich, Tony would make grabby hands. Instead, he contends himself with nodding eagerly. Who can say no to Katz steak-cut fries? Not Tony Stark. He’s only human. They eat in comfortable silence, something that’s become a norm for them. There’s not a lot of people in the world with whom he can sit like this. Tony, dare he say this, feels like he’s friends with Barnes. It’s nice. Tony can’t help but smile as he eats. He _does_ manage to not give into the urge to twirl left to right on the stool though.

 

Tony’s wondering if he can steal a few fries from Barnes’ pile when the man breaks the silence. “I wanted to ask you something. A favor.”

 

Does that mean the sandwiches were a bribe? Well... Tony acquiesces, he can accept that. It’s been an age since he’s indulged in a Katz sandwich. When he directs his full attention towards the other man, a warning bell goes off somewhere in the back of his head.

 

“Depends on the favor.”

 

The ease with which Barnes has been carrying himself around the Tower is gone. He’s wound up so tight Tony’s sure if he touched Barnes shoulder, he’d twang. Tony wonders if Bucky’s learned of another trigger. Or maybe had another flashback?

 

Barnes looks... _incredibly_ uncomfortable. It reminds him of when he’d made Barnes talk about the brain washing. The man puts his sandwich down. Stares at it before looking up at Tony, a pleading look in his dark eyes.

 

“I asked JARVIS to keep an eye on what Steve’s doing with that program you made for him.” As far as admissions go, it’s a little surprising. Barnes continues, hurrying now. “I wanted to know if he’d found any leads. If he knew where I was or where I could be.”

 

“What’s he know then?”

 

“He’s checking out a story of a guy with a metal prosthetic being seen in Riga.”

 

Tony raises an eyebrow, “Was that you?”

 

“Yeah. I was there for a couple of weeks about 2 months ago.”

 

So Rogers is going to be chasing a wild goose chase. Tony kind of wishes he could be there to see that. Oh! He totally _could_ if he asks JARVIS to keep tabs on Rogers’ travelling. Tony puts a pin in that idea before focusing on the conversation.

 

“Okay...What’s the favor though? You want me to call him and tell him that leads’ wrong?”

 

Barnes presses his lips together. Exhales slowly before pressing his forearm flat against the table. “I don’t want him to know where I am.”

 

Tony’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You don’t?” When Barnes shakes his head, Tony puts his sandwich down and mimics Barnes posture. “I was thinking you’d already told him you were staying here with me.”

 

When Barnes shakes his head, Tony can’t help but ask, “How come?”

 

“It’s... hard to explain.”

 

He didn’t say “Try me” but Tony hopes he’s expressing that notion strongly enough through the look he gives Barnes. Barnes sighs and rubs his eyes. “I don’t think I told you how Steve found out I was alive, right?” When he shakes his head, Barnes gives Tony the highlights: Barnes was still a HYDRA agent and had attacked Steve. Steve had recognized him as Bucky, fought him, chased him. Refused to fight _because_ he’d recognized who Bucky was.

 

“I don’t know if it’s luck or Steve’s stubbornness that cracked through the programming but... it worked. Steve managed to get through to me. Get past whatever...” Barnes rolls his finger in quick circles next to his head, “mind fuck HYDRA pulled on me. That’s how far he was willing to go to get me back.”

 

“The man _can_ be relentless in his pursuit when he wants. He’s like the Terminator like that.”

 

Barnes ignores him, staring down at his cold sandwich as he goes on. “I’m scared. Steve... he wants his best friend back. I’m not sure that guy exists anymore. I’ve got too much blood on my hands. Too much time has passed.”

 

 _Oh_. Tony thinks sympathetically. “Are you thinking you’ll let him down in same way?”

 

When Barnes nods miserably, that sympathetic twinge turns into a full blown ache. He’s familiar with that feeling when it comes to Captain America. Tony doesn’t think Steve’s even aware of how so many people feel inadequate standing next to him. He’s never talked about how he looked up to the hero Captain America growing up. How he’d never let go of that even after he entered adulthood. There’s honestly no words for the hurt he’d felt upon meeting the man and learning that he couldn’t stand Tony. ‘You have been weighted, you have been measured and have been found wanting.’

 

“You don’t understand.” Barnes answers, lips twisting down unhappily. “He’s looking for a ghost. Bucky Barnes, his best friend, died a long, long time ago.”

 

Tony shakes his head before Barnes is even done speaking. “I don’t think that’s true.”

 

Stubbornly, Barnes shakes his head too. “It is. There’s no way to go back to the man I used to be. And...” The man links his fingers together on the table. Clenches them hard enough that the knuckles go milky white. “I... don’t want him to see me like this. I can’t risk it.”

 

The fearful look Barnes directs his way pins Tony to his chair. It’s the same look he’d given Tony when he’d had that panic attack in his lab at the start. It hits Tony all over again how young this man is. He’s barely got to be 25 if you cut all the Winter Soldier thing out. The ache in Tony’s heart goes down to his bones.

 

“What if we meet up and _something_ kicks in telling me to hurt Steve again.” As soon as Barnes looks down, Tony feels like he can breathe again. “I couldn’t do that... I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I hurt Steve again.”

 

Well. That’s... understandable. Tony exhales, running a hand through his hair before asking, “So, you want me to do what? Lie to Rogers? Toss him a couple of false leads?”

 

“Nothing that drastic. Just... don’t tell him I’m here please? Not until I’m ready.”

 

That’s a vague goal if Tony’s ever heard one but how can he not agree? Barnes sounds so despondent and the plea is so genuine...

 

Tony nods.

 

\--

 

Given a tablet and free access to the Internet means Bucky spends a lot of space time mindlessly looking up topics of all kind. The more he gets sucked into the rabbit hole of the Internet, the less time he spends thinking about himself. He reads up everything he can about PTSD, triggers, dealing with anxiety, panic attacks. He looks up himself, Steve, HYDRA. Another day he looks up Howard Stark, reads up about Stark Industries, and then gets curious about Stark.

 

There’s _a lot_ of information available about Tony Stark online - from his rambunctious and wild teenage years to his calmer but still wild enough current day image. He’s an _interesting_ personality. Proud, a bit of a jackass,a fighter through and through. There’s only area however, where he can’t find a lot of information - Stark’s kidnapping.

 

Everywhere he looks, he finds only the bare bones of what happened in Afghanistan. Bucky asks JARVIS if it would be okay to ask Stark about that time in his life. JARVIS had coolly recommended, “You may try. But I doubt Sir will answer.”

 

Makes sense, Bucky rationalizes. Stark’s not going to just open up about what was arguably the most traumatic event of his life. Stark doesn’t owe him shit. He’s just doing him a favor because he’s Steve’s friend. So, he resolves not to poke that particular bear with a stick. Instead, Bucky makes do with what's available to him.

 

Bucky’s sitting in the living room, watching Stark’s “coming-out” video on the big screen. He notes the subtle change in Stark a split-second before he tells the world he’s Iron Man and marvels in how Stark manages to look proud and heroic at the same time.

 

“I know modern entertainment isn’t what it’s cracked up to be,” Bucky starts and turns to the elevator to see Stark walk out. He’s tugging his tie free even as he continues, “but that doesn’t mean you’ve got to resort to seeing old clips of me. And if you’re going to do _that_ , you should see the Vanity Fair interview I did in... oh God, what was it? 1999? 2002? Something like that. _That_ was entertainment.”

 

“Oh no, I...” Bucky scrambles to find the remote to turn the TV off and succeeds. “It wasn’t for entertainment.”

 

“Why watch it then?”

 

“I was... curious.”

 

Stark leans against the back of the sofa nearest to the elevator. Bucky sits against the sofa adjacent, nearer to the windows. He tilts his head to the side like a curious magpie. “Curious about what?”

 

“You.”

 

Stark straightens immediately with a rakish grin. “Why look me up when you can ask the man himself.” He hops over the couch and plops down in the middle of the plush chair. Arms draped over the back, Tony says, “Come on. What you wanna know?”

 

There’s so much Bucky would like to ask, from the utterly mundane to highly personal. He could ask about why Stark changed his mind about keeping his identity a secret. He could ask what happened in Afghanistan. But honestly, there’s a more pressing question that’s been burning away in the back of his head.

 

Bucky quietly inquires, “Why are you helping me? I know I asked you to help but... you could have said no.”

 

Stark’s eyebrows shoot up and then dip down into a hard frown as Bucky continues, “Is it because of Steve?”

 

That has a finger pointing his way with a stern, “Fuck no.”

 

He doesn’t say it but Bucky wonders, _then why?_

 

The air shifts in the room as Stark leans forward, linked fingers pressed against his mouth, clearly pondering the question. Bucky sits and waits, wondering what’s going on Stark’s head.

 

“If you’ve looked me up, you know what I’ve been through. Before I put the suit on.”

 

He must mean Afghanistan. “I’ve read what’s available online. But none of the details.”

 

Stark lowers his hands between his knees, eyes locked on his locked fingers. “I can relate to where you’ve been. I know what it’s like to feel like you’ve been used...even though you didn’t pull the trigger, you didn’t have a say in it, there’s still blood on your hands. I know how hard it is to try and deal with it. More than that...”

 

The haunted look on Stark’s face makes Bucky’s stomach twist in sympathy. “I was a mess when I got back. Large bodies of water freaked me out. Taking a _shower_ used to be...Sudden bangs would make my heart race. I’d never had a panic attack before Afghanistan. All I had _after_ were panic attacks.” Bucky swallows as Stark breaks the gaze again to stare between his legs. “I was alone back then. I didn’t know what was happening. I kept thinking I was having a heart attack. That the arc reactor was failing and I was going to die.”

 

The man shakes his head slowly. “It didn’t sit right with me. Knowing that you were going through that shit and didn’t know what was happening or how you could deal with it. I couldn’t _not_ help. I’ll never say no to helping people who want to do better. Who want to make amends for the things they’ve done.” Stark rubs his eyes and mumbles lowly under his breath, like he doesn’t want Bucky to hear but his enhanced hearing hears it anyways. “Maybe they can do better than I have...”

 

Bucky looks down as well, trying to process this.

 

“I’m helping you not just because it’s the right thing to do,” Stark finally breaks the silence. “You deserve a second chance. A clean slate. You deserve to have access to all the tools you need to get healthy, mentally, physically, emotionally. What happened to you? Was a tragedy. It wasn’t your fault.”

 

There’s a lump in his throat, big and awful and it’s making his breaths turn wheezy. It stops him from pointing out that that’s not true. That’s _not_ true. If he could break the programming because of Steve then he should have been able to do it before. He should have fought harder. He should have fought _harder_ , dammit.

 

He covers his eyes with a hand, cool metal. He can’t see Stark get up but he hears him walk up to him. Feels the cushion dip as the man sits down. Bucky’s shoulders tremble as he tries to control his breathing and not cry when Stark throws his arm around Bucky’s shoulder and squeezes. Bucky’s so grateful he took a chance on this man and that Stark’s more than the man he thought he was, on his own merit and without anyone else’s influence.

 

\--

 

Tony wants to say that Barnes is a thoughtful house guest but that would imply that they've spent enough time together to make that impression. Mostly, they spend time together in the lab. That's it. Outside of those hours, Barnes is closer to being a ghost than a guest right now.

 

Mostly, Tony tells himself he’s being a decent person by giving Barnes his space. The other half of it is, Tony doesn’t know how to handle the guy. He doesn’t think Barnes would appreciate constantly being treated with kid gloves. It’s the cowards way sure, but Tony think it’s better for all parties involved to give Barnes his space. In the meanwhile, Tony keeps tabs on him through JARVIS. And his AI tells him that Barnes has been doing a lot of reading in his free time.

 

He can’t help but mentally pat himself on the back for his decision to give Bucky all the information he needs to help himself. But that was also _such_ a non-brainer. Tony remembers how utterly _terrifying_ it had been for himself in the days after the Battle of New York. He wouldn’t, and doesn’t, wish the feeling of going through a panic attack and not knowing what was happening on anyone.

 

When they're in his lab however, they talk. Barnes asks questions about Tony’s own experiences with panic attacks and anxiety. And man. It’d be easier to pull a tooth out with a doorknob and a piece of string. But Tony shoves his issues to the side and tells Barnes the truth because if his painful experiences can become a force of good? Then by God, Tony’s gonna wade through that shit and come out victorious on the other end.

 

Barnes is quieter now that’s for sure. He's taken to brooding about the issue. Tony worries about that if he’s totally honest. He keeps touching base with JARVIS to make sure Barnes hasn’t done anything... you know. Drastic or stupid. He helps in what little capacity he can. Tony asks Happy to get him take-out menus of all the restaurants he can around the Tower and leaves them in the kitchen. He tells JARVIS to make sure Barnes eats something and to direct him to that pile when it’s lunch time. Tony doesn’t ask about that for a few days but the next time he sees the pile, it’s clearly been shuffled through and sorted out because while before it had been a mishmash of various cuisines, now it’s mostly hamburgers, fries, and Chinese food.

 

There’s other things Tony does as well. He tries to have dinner with Barnes every other day at least. Mostly so that he can tell the other man about what he’s found while examining the code deeply rooted into Barnes mechanical arm. It was a fucking mess to put it kindly. Choppy code piled on top of obsolete code connecting some massively clunky neuro-mechanical connections in Barnes shoulder joint.

 

“Bright side is,” Tony tells him as he passes Barnes the takeout container with the last of the rice, “I don’t see a link between your arm and the brain washing. That means we can take it off and replace it with a new one without any issues.”

 

Mixing the rice together with the Kung-Pao chicken, Barnes says, “What’s the down side?”

 

Tony pulls a face as he shoves a strip of dry beef to the other side of his place. “I don’t even know where to start with de-programming you. Mapping your brain out didn’t help half as much as I thought it would. Probably because you’re not... you know... _under_.”

 

It’s a little annoying and a little gratifying that Barnes only tilts his head and asks, “So what do we do? Do you want to try and... put me under, you said? I’m not sure how safe that’ll be.”

 

“I was thinking recon. I’m going to see if I can find anything like a cryo-chamber in HYDRA’s network. There might be something there that could help us.”

 

Tony slides a tablet over to Barnes. “I got JARVIS to do a deeper dive into the SHIELD leaks. JARVIS, pull up a map of all known HYDRA basis. Toss in the suspected ones as well.” He taps the edge of the device. “The ones in red are normal bases. Blue’s are one where we know you were kept. Green are potentials. Any of these ring any bells for you?”

 

He slides his chair closer to Barnes as the man pours over the digital map, going over the red pins dropped on a world map and pointing out corrections and adding in more bases. They’re making their way through Europe when JARVIS interrupts, “Pardon my interruption but Ms. Potts is calling for you, Sir.”

 

“Patch her through.” Tony waits for the tell-tale beep signalling the transfer before cheerfully asking, “What’s up Pep?”

 

“The lawyers finished going over the contract for buying out Core Electronics.”

 

This is unexpected but delightful news. He hadn’t expected the contract to be finalized before another week. “Seriously? How come they wrapped this up so fast?”

 

“Once we figured out the main thing they wanted was a guarantee that none of their staff would be laid off after being acquired _and_ they’d still have some autonomy in decision making, it was pretty easy.”

 

“And offering them twice what they’re worth probably helped too.”

 

Pepper laughs in agreement. “Probably. I’m coming over right now to get your signature. Are you at the Tower?”

 

“Having dinner.” _Oh_ , Tony thinks as he turns to look at Barnes curious expression. He hasn’t told Pepper about Barnes. “Uh. I gotta warn you, Pep. I’ve got company over.”

 

“I’m sure you can pull away from whoever you have over for a minute, Tony.” Pepper sardonically points out.

 

“Not _that_ kind of company. More of a house guest.”

 

There’s a short pause before Pepper cautiously asks, “You didn’t pick up another engineering student having a hard time, did you? Not that there’s anything wrong with that but you need to veto them to make sure they’re who they say they are and not just taking advantage of-”

 

Barnes mouths, “What?” while Tony hurriedly interrupts, “Nothing like that! It’s a friend of a friend who needs some help.”

 

“Anyone I know?”

 

“I don’t think so. You want something to eat too? We’ll save you something.”

 

“What are you having?”

 

“Chinese.”

 

“Any egg rolls or orange chicken?”

 

Tony shoots Barnes a quick questioning look. The man sifts through the small pile of take out containers, peeking into one before holding it out to Tony. He peers into it and sees two egg rolls. “I’ve got two egg rolls here with your name on ‘em.”

 

“Perfect. I’ll see you in ten.”

 

Tony plops the egg rolls into an empty plate before digging around the other containers. Wasn’t there some fried rice left? He’s sure there was at least a nice scoop left. That with some of the dry beef is going to be a nice little meal for Pepper.

 

“Uh Stark,” Tony looks up at Barnes’ nervous voice. The other man’s eyes are flitting around the room. “I don’t think I’m ready to meet people just yet. Could I...?”

 

Ah. Damn. That was rude of him. He should have asked Barnes if he was up for the company. Guilt makes him grin too broad and wave a too exuberant a hand. “Sure, sure! My bad, I forgot not everyone’s a social butterfly like me. JARVIS, give us a two minute warning before Pepper shows up so Barnes can get to his room.”

 

Jeez, he doesn’t feel worthy of the grateful look Barnes gives him but Tony shoves that feeling back where it came from. “Just make sure to lock the door when you’re in your room. I don’t trust Pepper not to get nosy.”

 

“Will she?”

 

“Probably not. But better safe than sorry.”

 

“What’ll you tell her about me?”

 

“That you’re a friend who needs a place to stay for the night.”

 

“I mean about why I’m not here to meet her.”

 

Tony waves a hand, “I’ll just say you were tired and went to bed early. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

 

\--

 

It oddly, feels like he’s betraying Steve in some way when he asks Stark to keep his location a secret. But Bucky also knows he can’t meet Steve just yet. Steve’s sure to feel disappointed because Bucky’s not the man he expected to be... _wants_ him to be. It’s easier this way, Bucky reassures himself. It’s _better_ this way. In the meanwhile, he focuses on himself. 

 

Stark’s made great progress on his new arm, even with all the issues that have come up. There’s been less progress when it comes to his brainwashing but JARVIS has found a promising lead by doing some kind of deep search into the leaked SHIELD information. There were mentions of “super soldiers” being controlled by using control words from a small red notebook. It’s the best lead they’ve found. Stark wants to personally fly to the base where the report was found in and try to find the book but his busy schedule has prevented this. Bucky’s silently relieved because he wants to convince Stark to take him with him. From all the reading he’s done about PTSD, this feels like a necessary step towards closure.

 

Bucky’s making himself an old fashioned cup of hot chocolate somewhere close to one in the morning, mentally formulating a strategy to try and convince Stark to go together, when the soft noise of the elevator swishing open grabs his attention. He stills, turning his ear towards the sound of soft footsteps entering the penthouse. If he has to make a guess, a woman has walked in. It isn’t Pepper however. She has a heavier tread - she never tries to muffle the sound of her approach. No, this is someone who is trying her best not to be noticed.

 

Bucky quietly pulls a knife out of the knife block and slips towards the living room. He’s relieved he hadn’t asked JARVIS to turn the lights when he’d made his way to the kitchen because now, the darkness affords him valuable cover.

 

“JARVIS,” the newcomer directs at the ceiling. “Where’s Tony?”

 

“He is getting ready to go to bed, Ms. Romanoff. Would you like me to tell Sir you are here?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“One moment.”

 

Bucky peers around the doorway. A petite red haired woman stands below a spotlight, hands in her jacket as she makes a slow turn, observing her surroundings. He ducks behind the wall before her eyes sweep past the open kitchen door.

 

Is this another one of Stark’s friends? How many red-haired women does he know? Bucky quickly wonders if the man has a thing for redheads.

 

(A nervous voice quietly wonders why this woman looks so familiar?)

 

He waits for Stark to show up before sneaking another peek. Stark’s in his sleep clothes, an old t-shirt and sleep pants, fuzzy slippers shuffling against the marble.

 

“Nat,” Stark grumbles. “When you said you needed to talk when you were in New York, I _assumed_ you meant an hour _sane_ people met.”

 

“I didn’t want to give you a chance to weasel your way out of it.”

 

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

 

“Just to annoy me.”

 

Bucky’s bemused to see the pair grinning at each other. (He knows that smile. Why does he know it?) Stark gestures at the couch a couple of feet away but the lady, Nat Romanoff, shakes her head. “I’m not here for a social visit. I wanted to stop by and ask why you’ve been looking for leads about the Winter Soldier.”

 

“Caution,” Stark smoothly answers. “I want to make sure none of us run into the man again. Better safe than sorry.”

 

Nat stares Stark down, drawling, “Is that the only reason why?”

 

“I’m a futurist. This is part of what I do. I anticipate future threats and make plans to stop them from happening.”

 

(That unamused look almost brings a memory back. Almost... Bucky can taste vodka at the back of his throat and smell a woodsy, floral scent.)

 

“So you’re not helping Steve find where Bucky Barnes is?”

 

“Rogers wouldn't ask me directions to a coffee shop, much less finding his bestie,” Stark snarks. One of these days Bucky is going to sit down with Stark and ask him what’s his whole deal with Steve. And why does he so vehemently believe that Steve wouldn’t ever depend on him or ask Stark for help.

 

Nat pulls a note out of her pocket and holds it out for Stark. The man looks it before grumbling, “You know I hate being handed things.”

 

“Only when it’s convenient. It’s from Steve.”

 

“Return to sender please.”

 

Rolling her eyes, Nat presses the envelope against Stark’s chest. “He’s asking you to help him find Barnes. So you see, he _would_ ask you for help.”

 

Stark mutters something too faint for Bucky to catch but he pulls the envelope open, reads whatever's written on the single page, and pulls an unhappy face. “This isn’t asking for help as much as demanding it,” he corrects, waving the paper at Nat. “Do you know what he wrote?”

 

“Are you going to help him or not?”

 

(“Are you going to help me or not?” he hears the echo of her voice, younger, less husky, ask him from a lifetime ago.)

 

Heart in his throat, Bucky misses Tony’s reply. But the way Nat’s shoulders sag and she exhales, “Thank you.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. He owes me one for this. He owes _you_ for playing messenger too. Would it have killed him to send me an email? Or fuck, _call_ me? There’s easier ways to get a message to me.”

 

“He wanted to make sure you got it.”

 

Tony throws his hands up in clear exasperation. “When I said I’d set up _priority notifications_ for all Avengers, I meant it! That means I can’t avoid anyone’s messages even if I wanted too!”

 

“I’ll tell him that,” Nat nods at the elevator. “Are my rooms still open?”

 

“Might be a little dusty. The cleaning services airs and cleans everyone's suites out once a month. But everything’s there. Are you gonna spend the night?”

 

“Yeah. I’ve got some more business in the area in the morning. I don’t want to go all the way back to SHIELD.”

 

“Knock yourself out,” Tony gestures emphatically around him. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna grab some water and pass out for the night.”

 

Nat nods and walks into the waiting elevator. Bucky continues to stand against the wall, heart pounding slow but loud in his ears. Who was she? When had he known her?

 

“You okay?” Tony quietly asks, shoulder pressed the doorway.

 

Bucky swallows past the lump in his throat. “Who was that?”

 

“Black Widow. Natasha Romanoff. Full time spy, part time whatever she needs to be to get the job done. Why?”

 

“I think... I think I knew her.”

 

\--

 

Even though he’s shaken by the almost memories coming back thanks to Natasha, Barnes chooses not to talk about it and asks instead to go to bed. Tony lets him, not wanting to push him in case Barnes has a panic attack. Shortly after, Tony goes to bed as well.

 

But first, he fumes at Rogers gall. Where’s he get off telling Tony that the program isn’t working and it needs to be fixed? And then asked to expand the search parameters too? Tony punches his pillow, rolls over, and tells himself to forget about it. Instead he thinks of the odd look in Barnes’ eyes when he’d asked about Nat. It was more than recognition. It was...Tony muses a bit on it but fails to find the words to describe the heartbroken look in Barnes’ eyes. Tony wonders how it could be possible for these two people to fall into each other's orbit. He’s formulating a theory or two when he falls asleep.

 

Next thing he knows, it’s morning and JARVIS is waking him up exactly five past 7 in the morning. Drowsy beyond words, Tony grunts for his AI to get the coffee machine going before shuffling out of bed and into the bathroom. Basic needs attended too and face washed, Tony stretches and heads out to the kitchen.

 

He’s just stepped into the living room when Nat’s shocked, “James?” reaches his ear.

 

 _Oh shit_ , Tony can’t help but think, skidding into the kitchen with a “I can explain!” on the tip of his tongue.

 

 _It’s like the world’s funniest Mexican stand-off_ , Tony thinks to himself wildly. There he is with wild bed hair and in his sleep clothes, Nat wearing sleep shorts and a tank top, and Barnes in just his shorts, milk carton raised halfway up to his lips.

 

 _That_ , of all things, snaps Tony out of his stupor. “How many times have I told you not to drink from the carton! It’s disgusting!”

 

“What the _hell_ is going on here, Tony?”

 

Natasha’s voice is so cold Tony can feel the room’s temperature drop at least two degrees. He raises his hands in the universal expression of surrender before saying, “It’s pretty simple really. Uuhhh...”

 

His brain blanks under Natasha’s withering stare. Tony blinks, mentally pushing his brain with a stick but it just rolls over and pretends to be dead. “I got nothing actually.”

 

Natasha takes a step towards him, murder written in her eyes. Tony immediately darts to the other side of the room, putting the island counter between them as he yells, “I had a good reason not to tell you or anyone else that Barnes is here!”

 

“It had better be a _really_ good reason!” Natasha snarls. “Steve’s in _Georgia_ looking for him!”

 

“The state?”

 

“ _The country_ , Tony!”

 

Good to know that the fake leads he’s putting are being accepted, hook, line, and sinker. That’s a victory to be celebrated another day however. Tony glances liquid quick over at Bucky, who still is frozen in place, before deciding to tell Natasha the truth. She’s one of Fury’s spies. Tony’s sure he can trust her with this. (Probably.)

 

“Barnes came to me a couple of months ago. He needed help with that arm of his. I said I’d help.”

 

Their eyes hold, allowing Tony to see her put the pieces together. “That’s why you’ve been looking into the HYDRA bases,” she breathes out. “You’re trying to find more information about him and what they put him through.”

 

Not exactly but should he correct her? Tell her the whole truth? Tony decides yes in a split second. In for a penny and all that. And maybe... just maybe... he can convince Natasha to help them find that damned red book of control words. Barnes could use more people in his corner.

 

\--

 

Bucky’s done a lot of reading about amnesia and gaining one's memories back. People who have suffered through the phenomenon describe regaining their memories back in different ways. Some times the recollection is gradual, like the tide slowly creeping up a beach. Other’s said it was like being hit by lightning. For others, it's like puzzle pieces slowly falling into place. For Bucky, seeing Natasha walk into the kitchen, hair beautifully mused and face bare, it’s akin to being slapped in the face.

 

He remembers her, part of a group of 10 girls - all of them young and innocent only in appearance. She’d stood out from the others, excelling in all her lessons. He remembers the flash of pride in her eyes when he’d pointed out how quickly she understood the objective. More keen are the memories of the mission they got paired up for, her already having been dubbed “Black Widow.” He remembers how easy it had been to work with her. He recalls the ease with which she had kept up with him when they had to flee for safety. His breath catches as he remembers the fetching image she’d made in his bed, unabashed of her nudity as she asked him if he would help her on another mission in the area.

 

She’s changed. Bucky sees it in the way she carries herself. There’s less of a fight in her eyes, less desire to take the world on to prove herself. It’s hard to explain but she seems more confident in her skin and who she is but also has her guards up?

 

“Barnes.”

 

Bucky’s head snaps towards Stark. “I need to grab my phone. You good in here?”

 

Slowly exhaling, Bucky remembers the milk and puts it back in the fridge. “Yeah. We’ll be fine.”

 

Natasha doesn’t watch Stark go. Her eyes are riveted on him. She’s more beautiful in person than in his memories. There’s something in her gaze that makes him feel...nervous. It takes him a minute to identify the feeling because Bucky can’t remember the last time another person made him feel that way.

 

“You don’t remember me, do you?” 

 

The question is posed quietly but without any emotion. It’s more fact that query. Outside, the sun continues to slowly rise to its zenith. The beams of warm light pouring into the kitchen from the full length windows creep along the floor. They pour over Natasha’s bare legs and Bucky tries not to stare.

 

“I remember you, Natalia.”

 

He may as well have struck her, that’s the impact the use of that name has on her. Her lips start to form a question before the color fades from her face, highlighting the two pricks of pink sitting on her cheekbones.

 

“The Red Room.”

 

Bucky nods. Hesitates before admitting, “And the mission we worked on together in Stalingrad.”

 

“But you don’t remember Odessa.” That rings a bell but nothing specific. His answer must show because Natasha continues. “You don’t remember doing this?”

 

She pulls up the hem of her shirt, showing off a scar. As soon as he sees it, he remembers pressing the muzzle of his gun against the soft flesh and firing, sure the bullet would pass through the woman and into the scientist, who lay underneath her body. Bucky’s eyes drop to the floor and his cold toes. “I’m sorry.”

 

Thankfully, Natasha doesn’t say anything. He can barely hear her breathing. If he wasn’t able to see her figure out of the corner of his eye, Bucky would swear he was alone in the room. He sees her step up to him, walking forward until she’s in front of him. Her toe nails are painted a delicate shade of pink.

 

“I looked everywhere for you.” Bucky glances up, a bubble of hope floating out of the darkness swirling in his gut. Her smile is gentler, fragile as the finest spun sugar, just like her touch as she presses her fingertips against his bare chest. “It was a shock seeing you in Odessa. Especially since you didn’t remember me. After that, I tried to find you. But I never could.” Admiration shines in her pretty eyes. “You were good at that. Hiding.”

 

Bucky breathes in slowly, centering himself before he wraps a hand, his left hand, around Natasha’s wrist. Still as delicate as he remembers. Still so soft. He should say something but nothing comes to mind. Bucky stares at Natasha, cataloging the changes in her face, marveling at how open her expression is, and admiring how nice her hair looks when it’s straight.

 

He feels himself being pulling into her orbit, head cautious lowering when she runs her tongue over her lips. His eyes are half-mast, which is the only reason why Bucky _sees_ Stark walk in instead of hear him. Bucky immediately darts away, forgetting he’s still got Natasha’s hand in his own, causing her to take a startled step forward. She crashes into his chest, making him stumble back another step. He winches as his lower back hits the edge of the marble counter before shooting Stark a glare.

 

Phone in hand and a salacious grin stretching across his face, Stark innocently says, “Oops. My bad.”

 

\--

 

Building Barnes a new arm, one that’s more technologically sophisticated and less of a physical strain, is a delightful technological and engineering challenge that Tony dives headfirst into. It’s the only project he’s working the most on outside of his work and a couple of Iron Man upgrades. It’s also slow. Painfully slow. First, he makes a prototype but it’s too heavy. Then he finds a lighter material but it’s too brittle. Once he finds the right material, he has to figure out the neural connections and electronics.

 

 _That_ had been a delightful month. He’s not even being sarcastic when he says that. (He’s only 10% sarcastic to be honest). The first time he hooks the arm up to Barnes, it refuses to work so _clearly_ some connection on the inside is screwed. The next time, Barnes manages to close his hand into a fist and it gets stuck like that. The process of finding and fixing all those little errors to ensure Barnes won’t face any issues using his arm is his favorite form of puzzle. Barnes always has an apologetic look on his face when Tony takes the arm off. No matter how many times he tells the man this is all part of the process, that hang-dog look stays there.

 

Hell, the fact that he’s got a working prototype of a whole mechanical arm within three months? It’s nothing short of a product development _miracle_. But Barnes won’t listen to him so Tony sticks to muttering that under his breath as he solder wires deep inside the metal arm.

 

“JARVIS, make a note to recommend a shift into more affordable and advanced prosthetics. I’ve got some ideas I want to lob at Pepper.”

 

“Duly noted, sir.”

 

Tony pulls his goggles up, squints at the wiring before turning to the holo-screen by his elbow. He’s been keeping an extensive list of identified errors in the arm. Tony scrolls to the bottom of the list, checking off the problems they’d identified last time, before calling out, “I’m ready for you, Barnes.”

 

Barnes is sitting on the other side of the lab, watching DUM-E, U, and Butterfingers work as they fabricate different parts necessary for the latest Iron Man designs. He looks up at his name, standing up carefully because he’s learned the hard way how unbalanced he feels once his arm is off.

 

DUM-E turns his head with a chirp, tucking itself under Barnes’ arm for support. Tony can’t help but joke, “Does he make a better crutch than a lab assistant, Barnes?”

 

“He hasn’t dropped me yet,” Barnes grins back while DUM-E’s camera swivels between them in a remarkable display of dismayed affront, like he can’t believe he’s being bad mouthed.

 

“Don’t go dropping him now, you sorry sack of screws. Bring him over here.” As the pair approaches. Tony attaches a a few wired clips to the circuitry he’s been working all day on and runs one last diagnostic test on the prosthetic. JARVIS checks the coding, the corrections made, the current running through, and a hundred other things before finally displaying “Ready.”

 

Tony slides forward on his stool, ready to get started, when he realizes DUM-E’s hovering by his side with a distinct hopeful air around him.

 

Barnes snorts, “I think he wants to help.”

 

“Not in the way you think he does. He wants to grab the fire extinguisher, doesn’t he JARVIS?”

 

“Indeed, Sir.”

 

DUM-E whines excitedly, glancing over at the nearest fire extinguisher before turning to look at him. Barnes stares at DUM-E in complete bewilderment. “Does he thinks the arm’s going to light on fire?”

 

“I think he just wants an excuse to go trigger happy with the extinguisher _again_ ,” Tony points over at the other bots with his screwdriver. “Help them complete the fabrication. I’ve got this covered.”

 

Camera hanging a few inches off the floor, DUM-E squeaks his way back to its siblings. Barnes watches him go with a laugh. “He’s a drama queen.”

 

“He inherited the worst parts of 17-year-old me,” Tony laments before growing serious. “I’ve made some tweaks to ease the connection. Tell me how bad it hurts when I put this on, alright?”

 

Barnes nods, taking his shirt off before he seats himself in the exam chair. Without being told, he looks around for the slim bracelet that will keep track of his vitals. He slips it onto his left wrist and settles down, nodding at Tony. “Ready.”

 

“JARVIS. Start monitoring.”

 

The AI beeps in reply and Tony moves to connect the arm. He holds his breath a split second before everything clicks in place, eyes flying to Barnes and the display screen hovering next to him. The spike in Barnes’ heart rate slows down as he blinks and exhales, “Oh. That didn’t hurt at all.”

 

“Fuck yeah,” Tony grins, double checking he’s got the clamps on the right wires before rolling to sit in front of the display. “Let’s go through the usual tests. Usage, dexterity, strength.”

 

Barnes curls each finger, touches the tip of each finger to the tip of his thumb, goes through a few signs before nodding. “Pass. No pain, no delay.”

 

There _is_ a delay, Tony can see it on his display. But it’s 7.4% less than last time so it’s a step up. It’s _just_ slightly better than the reaction time on his old arm. Tony needs to see how far he can push the coding he’s put in the arm and see if the reaction time for the arm can be pushed as close to “immediately” as possible.

 

“JARVIS. Pull up a holo-display in front of Barnes. Functional dexterity tests.” Barnes shoots him an odd look but doesn’t say anything. As soon as the display is alight, he’s putting the pegs through their holes as quick as he can. Tony grins at the score. “Three seconds faster than yesterday.”

 

It’s when they get to the strength exercises that they hit a minor problem. Barnes’ grip strength has gone down by 3.1%. Tony quickly tracks the problem back to a faulty wire that he resolves to rip out as soon as they’re done.

 

“Think you can take it off?”

 

Barnes wordlessly reaches back to touch a hidden fingerprint-activated button near the top of his right shoulder blade. With a mechanized hiss, the arm gently detaches but doesn’t fall down. Tony’s glad he had the foresight of magnetize part of the connecting joint. Barnes takes hold of the arm and places it gingerly back on the table.

 

“Other than the grip strength, I think this is ready to go in terms of development. All that’s left is for you to tell me what colors you want this bad boy in.”

 

Tony’s rolling over to another display, ready to input whatever color or design Barnes is interested in having on his new arm, when the man asks, “Why do you still call me Barnes?”

 

 _What_?

 

He shoots the taller man a confused look, “You want me to call you Sergeant?”

 

“God no,” Barnes wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Call me James. Or Bucky. We’re friends after all.”

 

Friends, huh? Tony finishes rolling up to his table. He brings up the app in charge of fabrication before saying, “Only if you stop calling me Stark. Every time you do that I keep expecting to see Howard standing behind me.”

 

“I can do that.”

 

And that’s that. Tony Stark and Bucky Barnes are now friends.

 

\--

 

Bucky _loves_ his new arm. It’s lighter than his old one, has a faster response time, _and_ it’s got safeguards in place that’ll prevent him from hurting people if he has a panic attack. That is hands down the best part about it. No puns intended. Sure there’s been a couple of snafu’s in the first few days. Because the arm is lighter than what he’s used too, he’d been stumbling around like a drunk, bumping into walls and shit. And he may have miscalculated how much strength he needs to complete _several_ tasks but it’s still _great_.

 

Tony’s decided to put him through his paces when he’d accidentally crushed the TV remote, saying the arm needs to field tested and “Why didn’t that occur to me before?”

 

He’s made to box, punch through a series of increasingly thick and solid walls of metal, complete a few agility courses, and finally, gets to fight Tony when he’s in his suit.

 

“Don’t hold back,” Tony tells him as he flips the faceplate down. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

 

It’s invigorating, fighting against someone for the sake of it. A pure test of strength. The last time he’d done anything like this, he’d been in Basic. Even then the objective had been to win. This time, the goal is to see how far his arm can go (and how much damage can he safely land). He manages to get a few solid blows on Tony’s torso, hard enough to dent the metal (something that makes the man squawk with displeasure). But Tony had gotten quick a few hits back in. Despite his age, he can hold his own in a fight. 

 

Bucky’s examining a purple bruise on the back of his calf, wondering when the hell had that happened, when JARVIS announces, “Ms. Romanoff is here to see you sir.”

 

“Send her up.”

 

“Right away, Sir.”

 

Bucky takes a half-step towards the door, pausing when he sees that Tony hasn’t moved an inch. In fact, he’s still in his suit, running diagnostics from the look of things. And making faces at the new dents in his armor.

 

“Aren’t we going to...” Bucky gestures towards the door, wondering why they’re going to get cleaned up or at least move to the living room to meet Natasha.

 

Tony looks up, “Hmm?”

 

Bucky points a little harder at the door. “Natasha. Aren’t we going to meet her?”

 

“She knows where we are. JARVIS will tell her.”

 

He’s not exactly a paragon of good manners but it strikes Bucky that this isn’t polite. Tony must notice before he reassures him, “She won’t care we’re here, don’t worry about it.”

 

Easier said than done. But when Natasha walks in and doesn’t show any indication that she minds, or even cares, about their meeting place, Bucky relaxes. His interest piques when she smirks and holds up a USB device held between two fingers.

 

Tony’s eyes flit between the USB and her before breaking out into a delighted grin, “You found it.”

 

She tosses the silver device over, saying, “Did you one better.”

 

“The only thing better would be if you’ve found the control words.”

 

Natasha doesn’t say anything. Anticipation slides down Bucky’s spine, like an ice cube got shoved down the back of his shirt. The world skids to a halt when Natasha pulls out a small red notebook out of her back pocket. The cover is faded, worn in places to dark brown. The black star on the cover sucks him in. Bucky staggers back, shocked he hits something solid. He glances around. He’s being pinned to a chair. The metal bites against his bare skin. It’s so cold. There’s people in lab coats around him. One of them straps his head down and sticks a piece of wood through his teeth.

 

He tries to resist. Wants to ask what’s going on.

 

Where is he?

 

 _Who_ is he?

 

What do these people plan to do?

 

He can’t hear the conversation going around him. It’s like he’s been submerged in water. One of the scientists, broad-shouldered, dark hair, blue eyes, opens the notebook with the black star on it. And starts to read. His questions fade away, like chalk off the sidewalk as water pours over it. Everything washes away into obsolescence, leaving behind a blank slate ready to take orders.

 

A blast of warm air against his face makes him jump, causing the back of his head to crack against the wall he’s been leaning against it. Cursing, Bucky cups the back of his head with both hands before hissing, “What the hell?”

 

At least, he tries. The words come out slurred. He blinks hard, willing the darkness clinging to the corner of his vision to go away. It takes a few seconds. He has to squint because something is still blowing hot air in his face, way too hard. He raises his hand to cover his eyes.

 

“JARVIS, turn down the hot fan.”

 

Tony.

 

Swallowing past his swollen tongue, Bucky asks, “What...happened?”

 

“We think you had a flashback. A bad one.” Natasha. “Your body temp went down like a stone. We weren’t sure what to do to try and snap you out of it. JARVIS suggested the hot air.”

 

Oh.

 

Bucky breathes out past his teeth. It’s been a while since that’s happened. Clears his throat. Tries to find his voice and fails. He closes his eyes and gives up for the moment.

 

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say Natasha found the right book.” Tony says.

 

Bucky finds the effort to lift his hand up, left hand, and lifts his middle finger up.

 

\--

 

With the final key to Bucky’s recovery in his hands, Tony feels he should be more ecstatic. But if anything, he feels more hesitant than before. Because if the mere _sight_ of the book is enough to send Bucky into a flashback...

 

The man needs a therapist more than an engineer at this point. Because Tony’s a pretty bad example of what to do when it comes to dealing with his trauma. Sure he’s better _now_ but that doesn’t mean his coping strategies are exactly _healthy_.

 

He stares at the designs he’s got on screen. It’s an implant he’s been contemplating developing to help Bucky. It taps into the hippocampus to further tap into traumatic memories. The whole goal is to help the wearer ‘live’ through those memories again in an effort to gain catharsis. But he doubts it’ll help Bucky. Not the state he’s in right now. In fact, Tony’s sure that if Bucky tried that implant? It’d make things worse.

 

In terms of an analogy, Tony would say it’s like tossing someone into the deep end of the pool with weights strapped to their arms. It’s a terrible way to try to help yourself. But he also doesn’t know what else he can do to help. He knows that Bucky needs professional help. But where does one even begin to find a therapist who is uniquely qualified to help Bucky and his laundry list of issues. It has to be someone discreet. Preferably someone who knows about superheroes. Someone with a calm influence but a firm hand.

 

Wait...

 

Tony grabs his phone and calls Pepper, impatiently tapping his shoe against the floor as the ring tone goes on and on and on and o-

 

“Pep, are you in your office?”

 

“Yes,” Pepper answers warily.

 

“In New York?”

 

“Yes. Are you going to-”

 

Tony drops the call and hurries out of his office, barely avoiding crashing into a scientist walking past with a tray of beakers. “Watch it!” the lady snaps before she realizes who she just yelled at and goes pale. “Oh, sorry, Mr. Stark.”

 

“My bad!” Tony yells over his shoulder, already having forgotten about what happened because he’s had a revelation. And he needs Pepper’s help to pull it together.

 

He runs at a job at the elevator, tapping his feet, checking his watch, sighing at the speed at which this damn elevator is going up. He’s thinking about revamping these systems so that they can go a little faster, or maybe he can build an elevator that leads straight to Pepper? _That’s_ an idea! Tony’s thinking about pitching the idea to Pepper under the guise of “You’ll have a private and secure entrance!” when the elevator finally stops at his floor.

 

He slips past the others in the elevator, waving cheerily at Pepper’s Executive Assistant, who waves him forward with a resigned look on her face. He throws the door open to Pepper’s office and asks, “Do you want an elevator that goes from the basement parking to your office?”

 

It’s mildly insulting that she doesn’t even look up. Like she’s used to him just barging into her office like this. He doesn’t do this _that_ often... does he?

 

“I’m perfectly happy taking the elevator up with everyone else, Tony. What do you need?”

 

Tony thinks about pushing for the elevator but decides, what the heck. Better to get to the real issue. “Are you on good terms with Charles Xavier?”

 

 _That_ gets her attention. She looks up from her paperwork with a frown. “Charles Xavier? Why do you ask?”

 

He plants himself in one of the empty chairs in front of Pepper. “The guy’s a therapist right?”

 

“Are we going to just keep asking questions instead of answering them?”

 

“I don’t know, are we?”

 

“ _You_ are the one who barged into _my_ office asking for a favor. _You’re_ the one who should be answering my questions first, don’t you think?”

 

Well, she’s got him there. Tony leans forward on her desk. “I want to ask Xavier if he can help my friend with some issues. The guy needs a therapist.”

 

Pepper leans on the desk as well. “What’s wrong with the yellow pages or Yelp?”

 

Oh how Tony wants to say “The man was captured by a Nazi organization who brainwashed him into becoming their hit-man but through the power of friendship, he managed to break that programming. His issues have issues! There’s not a lot of therapists out there who could help, Probably.”

 

But instead he says, “Trust me when I say the guy’s got unique issues. He needs someone trustworthy. And someone who works on our side of the fence.”

 

Pepper doesn’t look like she’s believing him. So Tony powers through. “He’s good guy Pepper who got dealt the _shittiest_ hand _ever_. I’ve been trying to help but I’m no therapist. No matter how much I relate or share the things I learned from going to therapy, that’s no replacement for _actual_ therapy. The worst part is that he’s been backsliding for the past few days. He’s been walking around on eggshells, twitching at every other noise. He’s been having a lot of flashbacks too. It’s killing me that I can’t help.”

 

He doesn’t realize he’s breathing hard at the end of his little speech until Pepper’s eyes dart down to his chest. It takes _effort_ to collect himself and try again, this time more gently, “Please Pepper. This guy needs help. Xavier is his only hope.”

 

Pepper’s eyes soften. She reaches forward to press the button on her intercom. “Jenny? Can you please call Charles Xavier for me?”

 

“Will do, ma’am.”

 

“Thank you,” he breathes in relief.

 

Taking her finger off the button, Pepper asks, “Will that be all, Mr. Stark?”

 

“That will be all, Ms. Potts.”

 

\--

 

Charles Xavier is exactly what he expected out of a therapist, all the way down to his calm and soothing voice. The fancy mansion though, that’s a surprise. He doesn’t push Bucky to share anything during their first meeting. Rather, he insists on taking Bucky on a guided tour of the boarding school.

 

It’s an odd first session. And when Bucky mentions this, the man tells him, “You’re an odd patient. And I prefer non-conventional methods of treatment.”

 

“Does that mean digging into people’s brains to fix them up?” He asks sharply. Bucky’s had enough of that shit to last him three lifetimes.

 

“I don’t do that. I don’t abuse my patient’s trust like that. And that’s not a solution. No, the best solutions are those that you shape with your own hands, through your own effort.”

 

Bucky stays silent, not confident that he can trust the man. Not just yet. Maybe he should ask Tony if there’s some device he can wear during his sessions with Xavier so that his thoughts are protected from any unwanted mental intrusions. He pulls his phone out to tap a message out to Tony before slipping the phone back into his pocket. It’s a beautiful school, Bucky has to admit. Elegant, simple, everything a student could need academically or physically, is available. Bucky wonders how nice it would have been to grow up in a place like this.

 

Xavier asks him to stay for dinner. Tony cheerfully tells him to enjoy himself when Bucky calls to tell him this. He sits next to Xavier during the meal. The older man explaining the history of therapy and how far it’s come as a field. Bucky finds himself listening despite himself because... if he’s honest? When Tony had told him that he needed to sit down with someone once a week and _talk_ about what was going on? It’d sounded like a bunch of hooey. Because _how_ could just _talking_ with someone help you feel better? It sounded like the purest form of cow manure. That’s why it’s reassuring to know that it’s not all garbage. There’s a science behind it. There’s a lot of exercises to be done. Bucky leaves the mansion feeling...hopeful. When Tony asks how was his visit, Bucky tells him it went well.

 

“Are you gonna do it then?” Tony asks as he pours himself two fingers of brandy. He’s already filled a second glass out. After he’s slid the glass stopper back into the decanter, Tony hands one of the glasses over to Bucky.

 

Bucky accepts the glass and nods, surprised to feel a small smile pulling his lips up. “Yeah.”

 

And that’s how he winds up talking about what’s going on with him with Xavier. They’re doing three sessions a week right now. Xavier has said, depending on his progress, they’ll shift to two sessions a week, once  a week, once every two weeks, once a month, to as on need basis. It sounds like it’ll take forever and Bucky’s not confident he’ll ever get at a point where therapy will feel like an option rather than a necessity.

 

In the initial sessions, Xavier lets Bucky guide their sessions. He lets Bucky talk about whatever he’d like, taking notes and asking questions every so often. If he knows about the true nature of the ear cuffs Bucky wears, he doesn’t say anything. Very soon though, Xavier begins to lead the conversation towards specific directions. The strict yet gentle manner in which he deals with Bucky reminds him a lot of his mother. This thought occurs to him in the middle of a session and he wants to burst out laughing at the mental image his brain cooks up of Xavier wearing his mother’s favorite dress and apron.

 

And then, to his embarrassment, Xavier catches the thought and smiles. “I was always told I look fetching in yellow.”

 

Bucky wants to melt into the floor. He grumbles, “Thought you said you wouldn’t read my mind.”

 

“You projected that image rather loudly. It was like suddenly being faced with a billboard in the middle of a road.”

 

Well _that’s_ embarrassing but Xavier doesn’t bring it up ever again so, he survives. After that however, therapy starts to become tough. It’s emotionally draining and physically exhausting at the same time to talk about his experiences during the war. Talking about his time in the trenches, the fear he’d felt as mortar shells rained down on him. Worse was talking about the camps their regiment stumbled upon. Bucky’s done his reading about the war and how it ended. What he’d seen was a drop in the ocean of evil the Nazi’s committed. The images haunt him long after he’s talked about them. He goes home that day, crawls into bed, and sleeps until noon of the next day.

 

He wakes up and finds Tony working in the kitchen. He’s got three laptops set up, a blue tooth device in one ear, and a stack of reports spread before him. As soon as he sees Bucky, Tony forgets his work and asks, “Morning, Sleeping Beauty. Do you want breakfast or lunch?”

 

Underneath the dull headache pounding against his skull, fond amusement flickers to life. Tony’s voice may sound like he isn’t worried, but Bucky recognized those worry lines on the man’s face. 

 

Bucky shuffles to the kitchen murmuring, “Coffee.”

 

“Perfect idea. Bring me back a cup too.”

 

They talk about a lot of things in his sessions. About his past and his present, his friendships, his emotions. Xavier encourages him to tell Steve that he’s awake and well. But Bucky hems and haws. He doesn’t feel ready, is what he tells Xavier. And that’s true. He doesn’t. An honest part of him, that small voice in the back of his head, acknowledges that he just doesn’t want to tell Steve because he’s afraid. He’s afraid of being rejected, of being told he’s not the person Steve remembers. So Bucky delays the inevitable.

 

The next exercise Xavier gives him, is to expand his social circle.

 

“Tony might be good company, but he can’t be the only company you keep. If your goal is eventual reintroduction into society? You need to start meeting more people.”

 

Bucky argues he meets plenty of new people. Like the pizza delivery guys, and other store owners and employees. Xavier dryly tells him those people don’t count because they’re transactions. Not friendships. Naturally, Bucky sardonically asks _where_ is he supposed to find new friends, then? Xavier smiles his good doctor smile and says, “You tell me.”

 

Bucky likes the guy but sometimes... _sometimes_... he kind of wants to hit him. Anyways. He thinks about it and that’s how Bucky winds up asking Tony if it would be possible to have dinner with Pepper and Happy Hogan.

 

Blessedly, Tony just blinks and asks, “Sure. When?” instead of asking, “Why?”

 

He meets the pair over lunch at the Tower on a Saturday. Pepper and Happy arrive five minutes before the determined time, while Stark’s hurrying through a shower because he got too caught up in his work in his lab. Bucky’s first impression of Pepper is that she’s beautiful, smart, and doesn’t take any of Tony’s shit. Happy is more salt of the earth, grounded, and purely New York. He reminds Bucky of a couple of old friends long gone. But they’re good people; the best. As he sits with them in the living room, each of them nursing their individual drinks (white wine for Pepper, beer for him and Happy), it occurs to Bucky he’s missed this. Being around people and just... _talking_. He hadn’t realized how much he’d pulled away from people.

 

Tony shows up ten minutes after the couple arrives, rambling apologies and chiding the pair about being punctual. “Fashionably late, ever heard of that?” he teases.

 

Bucky can’t hide his amused snort when Happy dully intones, “I’ve lived through that with you. Two hours late to a function isn’t fashionable late. That’s just _late_ , boss.”

 

The trio has an amazing dynamic. Pepper and Hogan tease and love Tony, protecting and ruffling his feathers equally. They talk about someone called Rhodey, Tony’s best friend apparently. Pepper leans over to tell Bucky that he’d like the guy. “He’s the only one who can _really_ keep Tony in line.”

 

Bucky grins, “I dunno. I think you do a great job of it on your own too.”

 

Tony playfully chides him, “Ease up on the flirting there Barnes. She’s spoken for.”

 

It feels like being struck like lightning. He hadn’t even realized... He didn’t think he had that left in him. He swallows. Tries to hide his surprise behind a long sip of beer. But his shaking hand might give him away. He’s beyond grateful when no one points that out. Instead, Pepper changes the topic. Bucky doesn’t realize to what but he’s grateful anyways.

 

It feels good to know that there’s someone looking out for him.

 

\--

 

Tony’s happy for Bucky. Genuinely and completely happy. Ever since he started going to therapy, he’s become a new man. Lighter, calmer, more grounded. He smiles more often. Heck, he even sat down with Pepper to very seriously discuss wedding colors and what’s a good color for her bridesmaids to wear!

 

“It’s got to be a good color,” Tony warns from the sofa next to them, digging into the sofa because _somehow_ he’s lost the fucking pen to his tablet in the exact _five seconds_ he looked away from it. “Because I’m gonna get a suit made in that color. Don’t pick a shitty color, Pepper.”

 

“I won’t pick yellow, don’t worry.”

 

“I look like _shit_ in orange,” Tony continues over her, digging deep inside the side and coming up with lint and a discarded chocolate wrapper. How’d that even get there? Tony tosses it aside and looks between the middle cushions. “Turquoise though. I can _rock_ turquoise.”

 

“We can’t have the man of honor upstaging the bride. I say you pick orange.”

 

Tony glares at Bucky’s cheek. “Just for that, we’re having salad for dinner.”

 

Pepper rolls her eyes at them both. “I’m thinking royal purple or wine red. Something _everyone_ can pull off.”

 

So yeah. Things have been good on the Bucky Barnes front. Charles has said that Bucky’s made remarkable progress. He’s lost that haunted look he had in the start. He’s put on muscle thanks to all the time he spends on the gym doing PT and sparing with Natasha, Happy, or Tony himself. The man even goes out every morning for a jog, often coming back with baked goods under his arm for breakfast. Bucky’s doing _so well_.

 

Which is probably why it hits him hard when he finds Bucky sitting in the living room at ass-o-clock one night, staring into the corner with a dead-eyed stare. Tony forgets about his latest breakthrough with his armor immediately. 

 

 _Another nightmare_ , Tony thinks sadly. A bad one too if Bucky’s complete stillness is anything to go by. He’s a little glad that Bucky finally agreed to get a haircut because now, without the curtain of his long hair, the man’s expression is easy to catch across the room. Tony takes care to approach the man from the side, sliding obviously into Bucky’s vision before quietly asking, “Bad dream?”

 

Bucky nods.

 

“Want some company?”

 

A clear moment of hesitation before Bucky nods, slower this time. Deliberate.

 

Tony sits down, making sure to leave some space between them on the sofa. “Want to talk about it?”

 

“I don’t want to,” Bucky begins, voice hoarse and rough. “But I think I need to.”

 

Tony nods. He understands being at the point where you don’t _want_ to talk about it but you know you have to. He’s had more than a few therapists push him to talk in depth about Afghanistan. Some events, some people, some trauma, hold power over you that is only released when you give words to them. Tony though? He prefers to keep some ghosts with him instead of exorcise them away. He’s released those specters only in the presence of trusted friends. Not the professionals. Not that he tells Bucky any of this because Bucky shouldn’t be subject to Tony’s shitty coping mechanisms and mountain of guilt.

 

Tony tries not to fidget as he waits for Bucky to gather his thoughts. It takes the man a long while. Which makes Tony wonder how bad of a dream was it. _Maybe this is something he doesn’t feel like he_ can _share,_ it suddenly occurs to Tony.

 

“If you don’t want to talk about it, then we don’t have to,” Tony offers gently.

 

But Bucky shakes his head, firmer this time. “No. I... I owe it to you. You deserve to know the truth.”

 

“The truth about what?” Tony asks curiously.

 

One of Bucky’s nervous habits, that Tony has noticed, is that he clasps his hands together and squeezes with all his strength. Rogers does the same. It’s like they think they can just squeeze their nerves out. But Bucky isn’t wearing his arm right now. He runs his fingers through his short hair. Rubs his mouth. Covers his eyes. He fidgets in a way Tony’s never seen before. Tony touches Bucky’s shoulder in wordless reassurance. The worried feeling in his gut amplifies when his touch makes Bucky shies away from the touch. He tries not to feel hurt, remembering all the times Pepper tried to comfort him and the last thing he wanted was to be touched.

 

With a hard sniff, Bucky shakes his head. Licking his lips, he raises his head to stare at the far wall. It strikes Tony that Bucky hasn’t looked at him once since he’s walked into the room. “Do you know how your parents died?”

 

Tony frowns. That’s an odd question but he’s willing to see where this is going. “Yeah. They died in a car crash in the middle of nowhere. Best guess was that Howard hadn’t been paying attention to how much he’d been drinking and swerved off the road into a tree.”

 

If he’d thought Bucky looked pale before... the man looks positively _ashen_ now. He squeezes his eyes shut and whispers, “That’s not what happened.”

 

A sense of _wrong wrong wrong_ begins to creep up his legs when Bucky raises his hand to cover his eyes, hiding the wetness clumping his lashes together. Tony’s sure that if he wasn’t sitting, this is the part he’d start backing out of the room in denial of whatever’s about to come.

 

“I had...another flashback. About Howard. Howard had managed to recreate the super soldier serum and HYDRA wanted it.”

 

 _Don’t say it,_ Tony wants to say, _plead_ . _Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it_. But the words clog up in this throat into a lump that cuts off his breath.

 

Bucky exhales and lets his hand drop lifelessly between his knees. His eyes are barely open, voice flat, sounding nothing like the man he calls his friend. This sounds like... a dead man.

 

“They woke me up to get the serum. I was ordered to go to Long Island and wait for Howard Stark’s car. It was a dark night. Cold. It was easy to see them coming. To get Howard to go off the road. I waited until he stepped out of the car to g-...”

 

The abrupt stop takes him by surprise as much as it does Bucky. Stricken blue eyes meet his before they look down. Tony follows the gaze to realize he’s grabbed Bucky by his arm. Like someone touched a hot brand to his hand, Tony pulls away and jumps to his feet.

 

Tony’s done cocaine only once, when he was in college. It gave him the _worst_ anxiety and jitters of his life; it had been the worst high of his life.The shakes that take over now? They remind Tony of that night. But it’s worse. It’s so much worse.

 

He can’t think.

 

He can’t breathe.

 

He can’t reconcile the broken man sitting in front of him as being his parents murderer.

 

“I can’t...”

 

Tony stumbles over something as he backs out of the living room, thinking he should apologize for the way Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and looks away, bleeding hurt.

 

But he just... _can’t._

 

\--

 

Bucky winces as JARVIS gently reminds him of what time it is and how long he’s been locked up in his room. He pulls the blankets over his head, ignoring JARVIS’ repeated attempts to get him out of bed. Bucky understands that he’s been hiding in his bed for two days but he just doesn’t have the energy to get up. Nor the desire. Besides, it’s better if he stays here, out of Tony’s way.

 

Thinking of the man takes him back two nights ago when he’d told the truth. Multiple images flash through his mind. The shock on Howard Stark’s face when he’d recognized him. The way Maria Stark’s eyes had gone slack after he’d snapped her neck. The horror in Tony’s eyes as he’d admitted his guilt. A whimper crawls up his throat as more memories rise up. The way Howard’s skull had given way under his fists. The softness of Maria’s skin under his palm as fragile bone had given way to brute strength. The lightness of the briefcase he’d pulled out of the trunk. The _praise_ he’d received from HYDRA for so neatly completing the job. He burrows deeper into the bed, wishing he could run away from his own memories. If only he wasn’t such a coward. Then he’d-

 

His door opens with a resounding bang that makes him jump. Bucky sits up with a start, floundering in the blankets as Tony declares, “Up and at ‘em Sergeant, you’re late for our sparring date and I’m here to kick your ass out of the mope-fest you’ve got set up here.”

 

“What? Tony...”

 

Tony sweeps into the room, telling JARVIS to turn on “the fucking lights, this is too fucking emo for me.” Bucky’s barely pulled himself free from the bed before Tony’s grabbing the sheets to yank Bucky to his feet and herding him into the bathroom, chattering away, “Natasha’s gonna be here in an hour and she’s going to be pissed if we’re not warmed up and ready to kiss the floor. And I want to re-calibrate your arm and increase the strength limits I’ve got on it. I’m thinking to program it as last resort kind of thing or something that you can unlock whenever you need to kickass. I haven’t made up my mind on that yet.”

 

The man hands him a toothbrush, a dollop of toothpaste on the bristles. The only reason Tony doesn’t stick it into Bucky’s mouth is because Bucky quickly intervenes and grabs the toothbrush as it comes up to his mouth.

 

“Tony...”

 

“Ten minutes JARVIS. If he’s not out by then, send DUM-E up to pull him out of here. Anymore than ten minutes and there’ll be no saving the bear claws Pepper brought from Peter Pan’s.”

 

Speech given, Tony swans out. 

 

Dammit. That’s unfair. Tony knows he loves bear claws.

 

Not sure of what’s happening or where this emotional roller coaster is going, Bucky can only stare at his toothbrush. He’d thought... after what he’d told Tony...he’d kick Bucky out. Or refuse to speak to him again. Why would he want to keep him around? It doesn’t make sense. But if he wants answers then Bucky needs to get dressed and face Tony. Never mind that that’s the very thing he’s been avoiding for two days straight. Bucky stops half-way through brushing his teeth and sniffs at his pits.

 

He adds a shower to his mental list of things to do and spits the foam out. He’s not sure how serious Tony is about sending DUM-E up, never mind that he’s never seen the bot out of the lab but you never know with Tony and his threats, so Bucky hurries through washing up and getting dressed. That doesn’t give him a lot of time to collect his thoughts though.

 

Still confused and uncertain of where he stands, Bucky steps hesitantly into the kitchen. Pepper is sitting on the island, high heels kicked off and her black blazer folded on the back of a second chair. She looks as gorgeous as ever when she smiles at him, patting the empty seat next to her as an invitation. Tony meanwhile, has Pepper’s phone against his ear and is listening intently to whatever is being said. He sees Bucky and points at the plain white box and curls his free hand into a claw. That’s the bear claws then.

 

Bucky pulls the box closer, inspecting it quickly before offering Pepper the first pick. She delicately takes a pasty out before tearing a bite size piece out.

 

“Did something happen?”

 

He freezes at the question, not only because it’s unexpected but also in the almost sotto voice in which Pepper asks it. “Why do you ask?” Bucky asks, hoping he doesn’t sound too... weird.

 

Pepper points at the white pastry box. “ _That_. They’re your favorite. Tony got those for you.”

 

Bucky waits for further explanation but she doesn’t say anything else so he’s forced to ask, “Yeah. And?”

 

“Tony only starts busting out gifts when he feels guilty about something or he’s trying to butter you up. I don’t think he’d try the second one with you. So that means he’s feeling guilty about something.” Her gaze pins him in his seat. “What happened?”

 

Bucky glances over at Tony. He’s got his eyes covered with one hand and a deep scowl turning his lips down. “Mark,” Tony says slowly and clearly. “Tell me you didn’t blow the prototype up. Tell me you guys didn’t do that.”

 

Okay...He’s on his own here. Should he tell Pepper the truth? Has Tony already told her? He must have...right? He trusts her with everything. He’s said that there’s no one he trusts more than Pepper (Happy, and Rhodey). And if Tony hasn’t  told her... he will _eventually_. And Bucky supposes, she may as well hear this from him. But what if she reacts poorly? Worse than Tony? Shamefully, Bucky lowers his eyes to the pastry he’s picked. He doesn’t feel hungry anymore.

 

“I can’t say. If Tony hadn’t told you then... I don’t want to say. But I can say this... Tony doesn’t have anything to feel guilty about. I’m.. I’m the one who should be blamed.”

 

Pepper tears off another piece of the pastry and chews on it slowly. She doesn’t say anything, thankfully. They sit in mutual silence, turning as one when a soft thumping noise starts from near the coffee machine. Bucky raises his eyebrows in alarm at the sight of Tony lightly banging his head against the fridge. He looks to Pepper for help but she just smiles lightly and shakes her head. She isn’t acting like it’s a big issue but...that can’t be good.

 

He takes a small bite of the bear claw, stomach twisting itself into knots. Will Tony want to talk to him after he’s done with the call? (And dare he hope... not hate him?)

 

“Mark, I’m coming there _right now_ to fix this mess. Don’t move a fucking _thing_.”

 

Tony tosses the phone back to Pepper, ranting a mile a minute about incompetent R&D scientists who can’t know well enough not to change things that are already working just fine. He rants and complains, telling JARVIS to tell Natasha a work emergency has come up so he won’t be there for their usual “ass kicking” session as he pulls his jacket and shoes on and stomps out.

 

It's only after Tony's walked out that Buck realizes something: Tony didn't once look at him. He didn’t say one word to him after Bucky'd arrived. His stomach turns to ice when he remembers that the only thing Tony has directly said to him, was telling him to get out of bed. Everything after that... He buries his face in his hands, abject misery filling him because who was he kidding? There’s no way Tony was okay with him after just two days. He’s just being a good host. He’s seeing his task to completion because he’s a man of his word.

 

Bucky’s sure that as soon as the final tests are completed on his arm, Tony’s politely going to ask him to leave.

 

“Fuck,” Bucky whispers into his fingers and tries not to fall apart.

 

\--

 

Plenty of people have told him that he’s good at putting up masks. There’ve been times where Pepper will visibly start at how quickly Tony can go from sullen to “party mode” happy. She says it’s weird and freaky how fast Tony puts that front up. 

 

But Tony has to draw on all his past experiences, all of his strength, to act like nothing’s wrong when he’s around Bucky. Not that he’s around the man too much after _that_ night but...there’s work to be done on his arm. Which has slowed down considerably because all Tony can think of when he sees that metal limb, is that its predecessor had killed his parents. He touched the limb, the palm, that was responsible for leaving him an orphan at only seventeen. The thought makes him want to throw up. And he does a few times, thinking of what his parents would think of him giving shelter to the man who killed them.

 

He knows he’s acting immaturely by not meeting Bucky’s eyes or by not spending any time in his company if he can help it. He knows Pepper has noticed something is wrong but he hasn’t told her the truth yet. He can’t give voice to it. He’s tried to bury himself in his work. Go out on dates. Find some new project to get lost in. He’s even tried to design the next version of his Iron Man suit. But its been useless. There’s no hiding or running away from this truth, no matter how hard he tries. 

 

He hasn’t even been able to freaking _sleep_. He finds himself in the backseat of his parents car, yelling at them to change their course, take another road, don’t stop the car, don’t do this, why won’t you _listen_ to me?!

 

“Fuck,” Tony whispers, scrubbing his eyes. He can’t concentrate. The designs of the new solar panels they’re hoping to release by the third quarter are spread before him. He knows this like the back of his hand. But it all may as well be gibberish right now.

 

A soft knock on his door pulls his tired gaze up. Pepper stands in the doorway, smiling softly. “Bad time?”

 

Tony sighs, sitting upright and leaning back in his chair. “No. What is it?”

 

She steps into his office, closing the door behind her before asking, “Can you turn the privacy mode on?”

 

He tapes a button on his desk and the glass walls turn frosted. No one will be able to see into his office now. “What is it?”

 

Tony turns in his chair to watch Pepper as she walks up to him, leaning against the table. She wraps her arms loosely around her waist. A pretty picture of casual ease. “What happened between you and Bucky.”

 

“Nothing happened.” Tony pulls out his best reassuring smile. “What makes you think something happened?”

 

“Because you’ve gone from talking about him a lot to not talking about him _at all_. You went from spending a lot of your free time with him to hiding from him. And when you _are_ with him, you still somehow manage to avoid him. I think you’ve talked straight to him about... five times in all of the last ten days.”

 

He can hear the crack in his mask when he stretches his smile wider, laughing. “Aw Pep, you’re imagining things! Me and him are doin’ just fine! We’re a regular Starsky and Hutch.”

 

Pepper stares at him, gaze heavy with sadness. “Tony. You don’t have to pretend everything’s okay.”

 

Crickity, crack, crack. The corner of his lips wobble. Why _is_ he pretending that everything’s okay anyways?  _Why_ is he doing that? With a startled blink, Tony realizes tears have gathered at the edges of his eyes. With a soft curse, he wipes them away with a careless swipe of his hand. He sniffs hard, wiping his hand against his thigh before saying again, softer this time, “I’m fine, Pepper.”

 

“No, you’re not fine.”

 

He doesn’t have the strength to fight when she takes his hand and pulls him down on the love seat sitting adjacent to his table. Her knees touch his, like her hand against his cheek. “Please. Talk to me Tony. I’m worried about you.” She swallows harshly before asking, too softly, “You’re not dying again, are you?”

 

He can’t help but let out a choked laugh because it feels like that, only worse. “No,” Tony admits. “It’s worse.”

 

Jesus. He sounds like a kid when he admits that. It pours out of him, like water from a spout. Pepper gasps when he tells her, palm covering her mouth, which has fallen open in shock.

 

“I haven’t been able to look at him since then. I don’t know what I’ll do.”

 

“But you... you’ve still been helping him?”

 

Tony shrugs, sneering a little. “It was pissing me off the way he was hiding from me. Like he was trying to spare me or whatever. Why’s he get to hide from what he did? That’s not fair. I wanted...I wanted him to feel bad.” He looks down at his lap and shakes his head. “I can’t deal with how guilty he looks. Mostly I can’t process this. I don’t even know where to start. I keep having this nightmare where my mom’s yelling at him for helping the man who murdered her.”

 

His hand shakes as he touches his mouth, hiding his face in his palm when Pepper touches his shoulder. “Oh Tony.”

 

“I don’t know what to do, Pepper. I don’t know how to feel. I can’t hold him responsible. He didn’t have a choice. But it was still _him_. I see him and all I can think is...” He raises his head, and pleads with Pepper, “Tell me what to do because I don’t....”

 

She cups his face with both hands, stroking her thumbs against his cheeks. “Be angry. Be upset. Don’t,” she stops him from looking away, forcing him to hold her gaze. “Don’t hide from what you’re feeling. You can’t do that this time. You’re going to have to deal with this or it’s going to haunt you.”

 

“But-”

 

“No. Don’t be logical right now. Let yourself be irrational for a while. If you’re not ready to forgive him just yet? That’s fine. Once you’ve let that out... _then_ you can think about what you want to do with Bucky. If you still want to be friends.”

 

It’s liberating being told that facing his hurt isn’t an indulgence but a necessity. It’s _scary_ to turn on his heel and face the emotions he’s been barely out running. With a suspiciously wet sniff, Tony grabs Pepper and buries his face in her shoulder.

 

He cries a little harder in gratitude when Pepper wraps her arms around him, petting his hair and murmuring, “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

 

\--

 

Bucky has resigned himself to be hated by Tony and that’s okay. It’s what he deserves.

 

For over a month, he forces himself to stick to his schedule but also avoids Tony out of respect. He goes for a longer morning jog. He has lunch outside under the guise of exploring the city. Sometimes he calls Nat to ask her if she’s in the city  and they hang out. After his meetings with Xavier, Bucky stays at the mansion, glad to be around strangers who look at him curiously rather than with impassivity or loathing. He’ll try to have dinner out as well but if he knows Tony won’t be home but he tries to stick to the usual schedule. He buys some groceries and makes a simple meal. He used to make enough for two but... Tony stopped eating with him after...

 

Even Pepper, who has been friendly with him up till now, had smiled so coolly at him when he’d accidentally run into her in the elevator on his way out. Bucky has never felt so fucking _small_ or ashamed. At least JARVIS has been the same as always. But even an AI as smart as JARVIS can’t replace the warmth of human company for him. And being on the receiving end of kindness from the AI... feels weird.

 

Peaceful sleep, already a rarity for him ever since his memories started coming back, flees completely. He goes from turning restlessly in bed to sitting in the living room watching whatever’s on. He leaves the channel selection up to JARVIS, trusting him to put on something mind numbing. Natasha shows up in the middle of the night twice, once coming up from Tony’s workshop and once going down. The first time, she stays a while. She doesn’t ask any questions, for which he’s eternally grateful. She simply makes him lean his head against her shoulder and runs her fingers through his hair.

 

It’s the first act of kindness he’s had for weeks now and it brings him to tears. He doesn’t cry but it’s a near thing. Natasha murmurs to him in Russian, telling him to rest. He closes his eyes and tries but doesn’t find rest. He still pretends to be asleep, even when Natasha lowers his head onto a cushion. He waits for her to walk out of the room before he turns his face into the pillow and lets the fabric soak up the tears.

 

He tells Xavier about what happened and is told to be patient but also to be prepared for the worst. Bucky keeps a bag packed with the bare essentials and asks JARVIS to please bring up a list of shelters. He writes the addresses down in a small notepad and puts it away in his bag as well. 

 

Bucky’s listlessly staring at the TV on a night like any other when he hears Tony ask, “What the hell are you watching?”

 

Startling, both at the question and who asked it, Bucky looks back at Tony before glancing over the TV and frowning, “I don’t know.”

 

They both watch the animated potted plants flaunt around a seed shop talking about what accessories are going to make them look good. When the name “Planting with the Potters” flashes across the screen, Tony asks, with a great deal of confusion, “Is this a Keeping up with the Kardashian parody?”

 

“Indeed sir.” JARVIS tells them.

 

“Some days I don’t understand this century,” Buck needs to say.

 

“You and me both,” Tony mutters.

 

Bucky can’t help but hold his breath, mouth drying out as his heart races in his ears. He doesn’t dare to hope to believe that this is forgiveness. For all he knows, this is Tony softening the blow before he admits he’d like Bucky to leave please. But those words don’t come.

 

Tony stays for a moment, watching a few ads before he quietly pats the sofa. “Don’t stay up too late. Watching too much of that show can’t be good for you.”

 

“I won’t,” Bucky chokes out.

 

“G’night.”

 

“Night.”

 

Tony’s footsteps begin to recede.

 

Something about the softening noise has Bucky whirling around, calling out, “Tony?”

 

The man stops, humming, “Yeah?”

 

“I’m sorry.” Tony’s nostrils flare as he breathes in. Bucky rushes forward. “I can’t ask for your forgiveness. What I did was unforgivable. But I want you to know... I’m sorry. Nothing I say can take back what I’ve done and I can’t change things. But...I just...”

 

He doesn’t know what he’s doing or what he’s saying. Bucky hangs his head, rubbing the back of his neck and sighing. He looks back up and repeats himself, as sincerely as he can, “I’m truly sorry.”

 

He realizes he may have jeopardizing whatever chance he had at restoring their friendship. But God. He _needs_ Tony to know how _deeply_ he regrets what happened. Tony’s lips are pressed together in a thin line, barely visible past his Van Dyke. There’s a storm in his eyes that Bucky can’t read. It’s too many emotions to pin down. Anger, is the one he recognizes easiest. And a sadness so deep it feels infinite. 

 

Bucky lowers his eyes, ready to say he’ll leave. Tony just needs to say the word and he’ll leave.

 

“I can’t say I forgive you either,” Tony breaks the silence with his quiet words. Bucky flinches because yeah. That’s what he figured. “I’m... I’m going to need more time to really... come to terms with what... what you did.”

 

His head snaps up because _what_? He must have misheard that. The corner of Tony’s lips is turned up in a pale shade of a smile. But it’s a smile. Bucky smiles back, overwhelmed to the point of breathlessness.

 

“Thank you Tony. I... _thank you_.”

 

How Bucky doesn’t _pass out_ from relief as soon as Tony leaves is a mystery.

 

\--

 

Why did Tony choose to go through the living room instead of taking the long way round to his room that night? It’s simple. He misses Bucky. He misses talking with him, his humor, his dry commentary on how some things haven’t changed even in 70 years. He misses his friend.

 

Tony finds himself thinking some funny thought in the morning and turns to share it with Bucky but there’s no one there. If Pepper’s there, she’ll often miss the look and he’ll feel so disappointed. When it comes to their sparring sessions... well. Those had always been for fun. Even though Tony had said they were for Bucky to get used to his new arm and to test the arm’s limits, they were just horsing around.

 

So Tony had stopped going to the gym. In fact, the only time he’s in the Tower is to sleep. He makes sure to ask JARVIS where Bucky is before going either to his workshop or to his room. The days pass like that. At first, Tony is happy to avoid Bucky. The less he sees of him, the less conflicted he feels, the purer his anger is, and the more peaceful he sleeps at night. As the days past, the conflicting feeling begins to fade. The throbbing ache of betrayal begins to lessen. And in the space left, he begins to miss Bucky.

 

So he walks through the living room that one night, heart in his throat and uncertain of how Bucky will react, and holds a short conversation with Bucky. To his shock and surprise, nothing bad happens. Bucky looks beyond grateful by the end and Tony doesn’t feel that old annoyed twinge he’d felt in the days after being told the truth. Rather, he feels relief as well. With a tentative smile, Tony turns back to his room and sleeps well.

 

He stops avoiding Bucky after that. Tony doesn’t make the extra effort to run into him either but... he stops avoiding Bucky. That means they bump into each other every so often now. They’ll make some small talk. Tony will ask how’s Bucky’s therapy going? What new exercise has Charles given him this week? Bucky will tell him and ask a few questions himself. Are Pepper and Happy good? He read that there was some issue with a plant in China, has that been resolved? It’s nothing like the friendship they had before but they’re on the mend.

 

He goes to his therapist. Stands in front of her bookcase and tells her, “I found out my parents’ death wasn’t an accident.” Karla doesn’t say anything. Tony pulls a random book out and examines the cover. It’s a textbook. “The person responsible came up to me and confessed.”

 

“What did you do when you found out?”

 

“Ran back to my room to throw up. Then had a mother of a panic attack.” Tony slips the book back into its place. “The really fucked up part is that... the guy’s a friend of mine. It wasn’t his fault either. He was brainwashed into doing it.”

 

Karla frowns deeply, trying to make sense of she was told. She nods slowly eventually before she asks, “How do you feel about this?”

 

“Complicated. I wanted so bad to hate him but... brainwashing.” Tony shakes his head, touching another spine and another. Runs his fingers across a line of books before turning to face the blonde. “But he’s a decent guy underneath it all. I didn’t know what the fuck to feel.”

 

Karla taps her pen against her notepad, scribbling something down when Tony says, “I tried to pretend that I was okay with it because...I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking in those first few days. But Pepper gave me some good advice. She told me it was okay to feel angry. That I _should_ feel mad and upset about this. That I shouldn’t try to logic it out.”

 

“Did it help?”

 

Tony nods. He sits back down on the armchair across from the blonde. “It’s weird but it did. I let myself feel pissed. It was exhausting but it felt good to let it all out. I woke up the next day feeling lighter. I still couldn’t face him but... I didn’t want to slam his face into concrete either.”

 

He sees Karla’s lips twitch at that. “And when did _that_ urge go away?”

 

Tony shrugs, “Dunno. But it did start...” He makes a downward motion with his hand. “One day I woke up and I didn’t feel pissed or upset. Isn’t that weird? Shouldn’t it be weird that I stopped feeling mad about the guy who killed my parents?”

 

“There’s no right or wrong way towards healing. There’s plenty of people who forgive the people who have killed their loved ones. The same way there’s people who hold onto their rage for the rest of their lives. It depends on you. You’re a logical person, Tony. Rational to a fault. It doesn’t surprise me that you processed this as fast as you did.”

 

“If you say so,” Tony mumbles before asking, in a more normal tone. “I kinda... went after him a couple of days ago. I mean. I didn’t deliberately avoid him.”

 

“How’d that go?”

 

Tony wonders what’s a good word to cover that encounter. He wants to say good but that would lessen its significance. He runs his fingers over his beard before saying, “It felt important. We managed to be in the same room together and I didn’t... I didn’t think that this is the guy who killed my mom. I didn’t want to hit him. I didn’t feel sick. It felt like progress. I’ve been feeling guilty because of that too,” Tony admits, staring hard out the window. “I’ve been having nightmares of my parents haunting me, telling me I’ve let them down and I’m a disgrace.”

 

“Were your parents vengeful people?”

 

Tony tilts his head in consideration of the question. “Maybe Howard. I don’t think my mom was.” He stops and thinks about it for a moment. Would Howard have blamed Bucky? As much as he holds Howard in disdain... he doesn’t think he’d hold it against Bucky either. So he shakes his head and changes his answers, “No. I don’t think either of them were.”

 

“Then why do you think you’ve been having those dreams?”

 

“Don’t I pay _you_ to help me answer those questions?”

 

Karla snorts, “You pay me to make sure you don’t weasel your way out of tough questions.”

 

That’s fair. Tony leans back and thinks about the questions. “I think it’s just guilt.”

 

“And we’ve talked a lot about how to deal with that, haven’t we?”

 

Yes they have. After Afghanistan, Tony had been plagued with nightmares centered around Yinsen. Shortly after, Obie. After that, Vanko. Him and guilt are old friends by this point. So he nods, relaxing a little. “Same exercises as before?”

 

Karla's smile is tinted with pride. “Yes.”

 

\--

 

If anyone was to ask Bucky to describe Tony? He’d say that the man defied your expectations. It didn’t matter what you thought about him, Tony Stark was more than what you saw, what he let the world see. He was a faster talker who took advantage of the fact that people listened to what you said more than what you did. He hid so much of his goodness, his kindness, behind his back. Bucky didn’t really understand why.

 

He thought he knew Tony Stark. He thought he understood him if nothing else. And then Tony turns his world upside down by quietly saying, “Thank you for telling me.”

 

You could have blown Bucky over with a _feather_. The glass he’d been holding slips out of his hand and falls to the carpet with a dull thud. Tony jumps, hissing as the Coke soaks into the fabric. But Bucky pays it no mind. He just stares at Tony like he’s a ghost because he can’t have said...

 

“Jesus, Barnes,” Tony is complaining, already on his knees trying to dry the stain with a handful of paper napkins. “You know how hard it is to get Coke out of a Persian rug? Pepper’s gonna be so pissed. She’d told me not to put the good rug out in the living room. She’s gonna hold this over my head for ages.”

 

“What did you... Why are you _thanking me_?” Bucky asks weakly.

 

Even though he’s the one who broached the topic, Tony’s the one who looks deeply uncomfortable. He awkwardly sits back, avoiding Bucky’s eye. “You could have kept the truth from me. You didn’t _have_ to tell me the truth. But you did.” Tony sucks in a deep breath before turning to look at Bucky. “I appreciate the honesty.”

 

It feels like Tony’s giving his actions too much merit. He hadn’t thought _that_ deeply about telling Tony. Hell. He’d been so rattled after remembering, Bucky hadn’t thought anything _at all_. So when Tony had come into the room and asked what was wrong...The truth had come out. Weakly, Bucky says, “I don’t need thanks. You deserved to know the truth.”

 

Tony smiles wryly at him. “You’ve got it anyways.”

 

“You don’t think...” Bucky hesitates and starts again when he catches Tony’s curious eyes. “You don’t think it’d be better if I left? It can’t be easy for you.”

 

With an unamused little laugh, Tony finishes what’s left of his drink, lime and soda. “ _Life_ hasn’t been easy for me. This is another drop in a bucket.” Rolling the ice around the glass, Tony contemplates, “I guess it _would_ be easy if I did. But I can’t do that. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

 

Bucky can’t help but hold his breath. Exhaling softly, Tony glances over at him. “I’d like you stay.”

 

This is worlds away from the first time he met Tony, when he’d imperiously told Bucky he’d stay at the Tower because it would be easy. He hadn’t been given a choice that time. This time, this choice, offered after everything that’s happened...

 

Blinking back the burning in his eyes, Bucky says, “I’d like to stay too.”

 

A tentative little smile blooms on Tony’s face and Bucky finds himself returning the smile.

 

\--

 

There’s plenty that people are wrong about when it comes to Tony. The most frequent thing is that they think, just because Tony’s a genius, he doesn’t make mistakes. That's a really stupid misconception because Tony’s only human. And he’s an engineer; engineering is all about making mistakes. He makes mistakes every day. He says the wrong thing, he makes the wrong assumption, he does the wrong thing. His most recent mistake is not keeping an eye on where Rogers is.

 

When Nat had said that Rogers was chasing leads down in Europe, Tony hadn’t looked deeper into it. He’d happily assumed that Steve was tracking down the false rumors Tony had been feeding into the program and gone on his merry way.

 

He shouldn’t have let his guard down. Shouldn’t have gotten overconfident.

 

Tony should have kept better tabs on Rogers. Then he and Bucky wouldn’t have been fucking blindsided the way they were.

 

\--

 

Bucky wants to slap himself because _he should have seen this coming._ After the thing with Natasha, how she’d just waltzed right in because she’s an Avenger and _this is fucking Avengers Tower_ , he should have realized that any of the other Avengers could walk right in whenever they wanted.  _He should have expected Steve to just walk right back into his life_.

 

Bucky just wishes he’d been wearing pants when that happened. And hadn’t been crouched on top of Tony in a vaguely compromising position.

 

There’s a beat of utter, utter silence that breaks when Tony says, “I can explain.”

 

It’s _surreal_. And Bucky can’t help but choke on a laugh.

 

Steve doesn’t seem to appreciate Tony’s comment if the ugly flush that spreads up his neck is anything to go by. Bucky remembers that expression well. It makes him jump to his feet before offering a hand to Tony, who leans heavily on him as he gets to his feet.

 

“JARVIS, take a note. I’m donating DUM-E to the nearest and worst community college in the area. Idiot bot can’t follow the first rule of lab safety. Who the fuck leaves oil spills on the floor without cleaning them up.”

 

From where he’s hiding in the corner, badly Bucky might add because the bot has ducked his head under a tarp while his body is in plain sight, DUM-E lets out a sad whine.

 

“Stark,” Steve warns in a voice that brooks no argument. “Start talking.”

 

“It’s simply really. We were running some tests to make sure Bucky’s new arm is working fine but he slipped on some oil and fell on me.”

 

Fully dressed now, Bucky taps his elbow against Tony’s side because he knows that look on Steve’s face. He’s one second away from using his fists to move the conversation along instead of his words. “Not the time or place, Tony.”

 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t try. Levity, it’s a thing.”

 

Shaking his head, Bucky takes a step forward. “Stevie. I’m...”

 

How many times has Bucky imagined this moment? At least a hundred times probably. He’s thought of all the different ways he’d tell Steve that he’s alive and actually doing well. But his words fail him. All the speeches he’s prepared, all the things he wants to tell Steve...fall to the wayside. Choking, he takes another step forward, stumbling really as he tries to call out Steve’s name.

 

Steve’s eyes are so wide and blue, so filled with a wild, fragile hope that is breaks Bucky’s heart. They slide past him, over his shoulder. Behind him, Tony quietly says, “It’s Bucky.”

 

A blink and Steve’s in his arms, holding him so hard Bucky’s ribs _ache_. The hurt reverberates, echoing inside of him like sonar waves bouncing off against whatever they hit. Bucky grabs back at Steve, clutching at his shirt like he’s his anchor in a storm. They cling to each other like little fearful children, unwilling to let go because if they let go? The moment ends. 

 

But Steve’s the one who breaks the hug. He always was more courageous than Bucky. His hands squeeze Bucky’s elbows. expression filled with awe. “I’ve been looking _all over_ for you. Where’ve you been?”

 

“Here.” Bucky stops to clear his throat and lick his lips. “Tony’s been helping me get better.”

 

He thought that would pull Steve’s attention away from him but the man stays focused on him. And that allows Bucky to get a first hand look at the hurt that flashes through Steve. “You’ve been here the whole time? Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

Bucky can’t find his _voice_ at that. Steve sounds like he may as well have stabbed him in the back without any explanation. His fingers let go of Steve’s jacket. He shakes his head, not sure how to begin or where to begin.

 

“I couldn’t,” he finally admits. In a voice so weak it’s barely audible. “I thought about it...But I just... _couldn’t_.”

 

“ _Why_?”

 

Jesus. If Steve sounded hurt before, he sounds fucking _heartbroken_ now. “You don’t know what I’ve done. How many people I’ve hurt. How many people I’ve _killed_.” Bucky steps away from Steve because he can’t stand of taint the man, his best friend. “I’m not the man you knew, Steve.”

 

But Steve, stubborn, loyal Steve, grabs him by the wrist and makes him stop. “That wasn’t you.”

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“It was HYDRA,” Steve insists. “It _wasn’t_ you.”

 

“You don’t _know_ that!” He can’t help but yell.

 

Steve never knew when to stand down from a fight, any kind of fight. He just gets up in his face and yells back, “I _do!_ ”

 

“ _How_?”

 

“Because I know _you_! Because I’ve looked into what HYDRA made you do! _Made_ you do!”

 

“It doesn’t matter because it was still _me_ doing it. That blood is on _my_ hands! Bucky Barnes _died_ after falling from that train.”

 

Steve uses his grip to shake Bucky, “ _Bucky Barnes_ is alive and I’m looking right at him. My best friend came back to me.”

 

Bucky shakes her head, shakes Steve’s hand off, and walks out the room because he can’t deal with this. He needs to get away, needs space, needs to talk to Xavier. He can hear Steve’s footsteps following but they abruptly stop. Distantly, he hears Tony say, “Give him some space.”

 

“But-”

 

“He’ll be here in the morning. You both need a time out to process.”

 

“But he’s my best friend. He needs me.”

 

“He _needs_ his fucking _space_ , Rogers.” Tony sharply says. “Fucking respect that.”

 

The lab doors close behind him. The silence rings in his ear, making him walk faster.

 

Maybe this was the thing that Bucky was _most_ afraid of. Not that Steve would reject him. But that he would look Bucky, look at the truth in the face, and say he doesn’t care. That his hopes and convictions will somehow overturn the truth. That he’ll have this _image_ of Bucky in his head and...just _expect_ Bucky to be as good as it or else Steve’s going to be disappointed in him.

 

Steve it seems, hasn’t realized that one of the hardest parts about knowing him, is for the other person to live up to his expectations of them.

 

\--

 

Tony thought he knew what a pissed off Steve Rogers was like. Turns out, he was wrong.  _Pissed off_ is when Rogers shakes his hand off, ignoring his warning to give Bucky space, starts towards the door again, and stops when Tony snaps at JARVIS to lock the lab doors. The _look_ Rogers gives him would make lesser men whimper in fear.

 

But Tony holds his ground, tapping into his own anger to snap, “What _part_ of giving him _space_ are you _failing_ to comprehend? Did all that time in the ice freeze your ears or something?”

 

“This doesn’t concern you Tony.”

 

It’s the way Rogers says that turns the spark of his anger into a raging forest fire. He finds himself standing toe-to-toe with the man, snarling in his face, “Fuck you! It _does_ concern me! Bucky asked for my help and I’m gonna give it to him. And if that means keeping you away from him so that he can get his shit together? That’s what I’m gonna do.”

 

He pokes the taller man in the shoulder, “Who the fuck do you think you are? You can’t just walk in here-”

 

“I’m his best friend! Who do you think _you_ are coming betwe-”

 

“I’m the guy who’s been here for him through his recovery.” _Something_ flashes through Rogers’ eyes at that. It’s too quick for Tony to process but he’s got a reaction out of Rogers so, Tony’s going to push. “I’m the guy who made him a new arm! A better one that’s going to be such a burden on his body! I’m the guy who sat next to him in the middle of the night to talk him about the nightmares he had! I’m the guy who _he_ trusted to help him out.”

 

The last line does it. Stricken, Rogers takes half a step back. Swallows harshly before asking, “How long has he been here?”

 

“Since April.”

 

He may as well have slammed a bat against Rogers’ head because he staggers against the nearest table, leaning on it as he says, “That’s...months.”

 

Tony almost feels bad for him. And then he _really_ feels bad for him when Rogers just falls into a chair and holds his head for a long, uncomfortable moment. Tony suddenly feels five years old when he came across his mom hiding in one of the studies with a bottle of wine next to her and sobbing her heart out. He doesn’t know what to do except stand there, frozen, wishing he hadn’t opened the door. Feeling as awkward as a clown at a royal wedding, Tony tentatively pats Rogers’ shoulder and wonders if it’s socially acceptable or not to say “There there.”

 

Thankfully, Rogers saves him from doing that by looking up at him with the most hurt expression _ever_. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

 

Oh jeez. Oh hell. Someone save him from this conversation because there’s no way Rogers not gonna feel hurt as hell by the end of it. This isn’t a conversation he should be having _period_. Bucky’s the one Rogers should be talking to. He scrambles for a solution, wondering what to say, what to do, when Rogers gets to his feet. “I need to go.”

 

Tony scrambles to his feet, darting after Rogers because this isn’t a good way to end things. It might have Bucky worrying harder than ever before on how to approach Rogers. He can’t let that happen. He isn’t going to take that chance. But he also doesn’t know what he’s going to say even after he’s grabbed Rogers by the forearm and made him stop. The man’s blue eyes look down at the hand holding him in place before meeting Tony’s dark eyes.

 

“Don’t...” Tony starts before trying again with more confidence, “Don’t just leave. I don’t know if Bucky wants to talk to you but you shouldn’t just leave like this.”

 

“What the hell do you want me to do?” Rogers asks in clear exasperation.

 

Tony thinks about it. An idea quickly comes to mind. “JARVIS. Where’s Bucky?”

 

“He is in his room presently.”

 

“Vitals?”

 

“His heart rate and breathing are outside of normal parameters but do not indicate a panic attack.”

 

Wide blue eyes lock onto his, “Panic attack?”

 

Tony points at Rogers, “You need to be talk to Bucky about _all_ of this. You shouldn’t be talking to me about it.”

 

Frustration twists Rogers lips own. “But you just said to give him space.”

 

“I meant don’t get up in his face! Give him a little time to...” Tony gestures wildly before trying again, “Look. I’m not saying break the door down and confront him. But... go there and tell him you’re there for him. That you’re gonna wait for him to come to you. Just... trust me on this okay?”

 

Rogers frown deepens. He scrubs a hand through his hair. Rubs his face. Sighs. “Where’s his room?”

 

“JARVIS. Light the way.”

 

Tony’s surprised when Rogers, instead of walking out the door, stays for a moment and stares at him curiously. Steve’s searching gaze makes him blink back in confusion. Tony stares back, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. “Why are you doing this?” Steve asks.

 

That’s an easy question to answer. The easiest even. “Because he’s my friend too.”

 

With a swallow, Rogers nods. “I’m glad he had someone in his corner.”

 

\--

 

Bucky’s sitting on the end of his bed, staring at his shaking hands and going through his breathing exercises. Inhale, 1, 2, 3, hold, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, exhale, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9. Over and over again. It isn’t helping. He gets up on his feet, grabs a dusting cloth and begins to wipe down the nearest surface. He cleans his dresser, bedside table, and is halfway through cleaning out the bookshelf, when there’s a soft knock on his bedroom door.

 

“Not now, Tony,” Bucky warns.

 

It’s not Tony who answers back. “Buck? It’s me.” Fuck. Bucky’s fingers curl into the dirty cloth. His knees grow weak, threatening to give out when Steve continues, “Are you...Can you tell me if you’re okay?”

 

No. No he’s not. Bucky runs his hand through his hair, grabbing a chunk and pulling on it lightly. It’s a poor outlet for his frustration. “I’m _fine_.”

 

Silence. Bucky stares at his hands, going back to cleaning his room. He wipes each book down, taking care with the ones that had cracked spines. He’s slipping Catch-22 back into its place when Steve speaks again, “Buck. I’m gonna be here when you need me. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Bucky doesn’t say anything. He keeps cleaning. After he’s done with his room, he pulls out the box of cleaning supplies he keeps under the bathroom sink and goes to town. He cleans the toilet, scrubs the tiles, and aggressively wipes down the glass walls of his shower. Bucky powers through the ache in his shoulder and the ache in his knees. It’s hard work. Concentrating on each task keeps his mind occupied until he stops thinking about anything except, “One more tile. One more glass wall.” When he’s done, Bucky asks JARVIS how long he’s been at this.

 

“Three hours, Sir.”

 

That'd explain why his muscles are aching. “Where’s Tony?”

 

“In his lab.” And then unprompted, JARVIS continues, “Captain Rogers is still outside your door.”

 

What? Bucky can’t help but look up at the ceiling in confusion before sticking his head out the bathroom to stare at his bedroom door. Steve’s been sitting there the whole time?

 

“Still?” he can’t help but wonder.

 

What’s he up to? When Steve had said he was there for Bucky... had he meant that... _literally_? An odd calmness descends upon Bucky as he crosses the room. It doesn’t feel like he’s wholly in control of himself. He only jolts to wakefulness when he grabs hold of the door knob, making it rattle hard enough to catch Steve’s attention on the other side, making him ask, “Buck?”

 

The sound of Steve’s voice jerks him out of his numb state. Bucky takes a step back, heart in his throat.

 

“Bucky... Bucky _please_. Talk to me. Please don’t shut me out.”

 

Fuck. His feet draw him back to the door. Bucky presses his forehead against the wood. He doesn’t have the strength to open the door and see Steve.

 

“I can’t...” Bucky starts and stops, not sure what he’s trying to say. He can’t shut Steve out? He can’t talk to Steve? He can’t open the door?

 

“Are you okay?”

 

God dammit. Why’s Steve asking that so softly? Like he cares so much for Bucky’s well being? 

 

“I’m...fine.”

 

“You didn’t have a panic attack did you?”

 

He starts away from the door, staring at the wood grain. “How did you know about that?”

 

“Stark... kinda let that slip.”

 

Fuck.

 

“Are you really okay? You’re not lying to me right?”

 

Bucky doesn’t answer that. On the other side of the door, Steve sighs hard enough for the sound of it to reach Bucky’s heart. The door shakes gently. A shadow falls across the small strip at the bottom of the door. Did Steve sit down with his back to the door? It reminds Bucky of all the times where they used to sit back to back and share secrets they couldn’t speak at each others faces. Heart aching for simpler times, Bucky quietly sits down with his back to the door as well. And gently knocks his head back. The memory is knocked out of his memory when the back of his head hits wood instead of the back of Steve’s head.

 

“I was looking for you in Europe you know. One hell of a goose chase you had me running around in.”

 

Bucky smirks, “Always was better than you at hide and seek.”

 

“How long have you been stateside?”

 

“I dunno. I ran to Europe right after... you know. I stayed there for a few weeks but came back pretty fast.”

 

“And you’ve been in New York since.” Steve muses.

 

Bucky presses back a little harder against the door and exhales.

 

“Have you had a chance to check the town out since you’ve been back?”

 

Blinking at the unexpected question, Bucky answers, “Uhh. Not really. I mean. I’ve been sticking to a couple of blocks around the Tower. Haven’t been that far out. You?”

 

“I went back to Brooklyn.” There’s a soft thudding noise near his left ear. He guesses Steve may have pressed his head against the door too. “Didn’t recognize a damn thing. Everything’s changed so much. Felt like I was looking for ghosts.”

 

That would be why Bucky’s avoided going back to his old haunts. He doesn’t want to go back there and feel like he doesn’t belong in this world. Steve always had more courage than he did.

 

“How come you wound up here?”

 

Somehow, the whole truth comes out. How he hurt the boy because he’d had a bad flashback. How he approached Tony for help. How he’d hurt the man but all Tony did was offer more help in return. He talks about his new arm, the tests he’d gone through, the new limitations on it. He even talks about therapy, a touch proudly if he’s honest, and how much it’s helped. Bucky talks and talks and talks and doesn’t realize he’s parched until he stops. The whole time, Steve quietly listens and nothing more. The realization makes him grow quiet, feeling a little embarrassed that he’s been talking for so long. Bucky rests his arms against his bent knees, rubbing his thumb against the flesh of his other hand. Mind frantically scrambling to ask Steve something as well. Something to keep this easy air between them. He comes up with nothing.

 

“Bucky?”

 

“Yeah?” he replies quickly, stupidly grateful that Steve’s still there and willing to talk to him.

 

“How come you didn’t tell me?”

 

Fuck.

 

“How come...” Steve’s voice breaks and he doesn’t do a damn thing to change the roughness of his voice. “How come you didn’t come to me for help? I’d have done anything if you’d just asked.”

 

 _Fuck_. Bucky squeezes his eyes shut but it doesn’t stop the tears. They burn against his eyelids and cheeks. He swipes a hand across his cheek, sniffing hard. _Fuck_. He needs to pull himself together. Bucky swallows hard, knowing he can’t keep avoiding this. He needs to say this. It has to be his words. “I was afraid I’d disappoint you.”

 

“ _Why_ would you think that? Bucky...you could never...”

 

He can imagine the look on Steve’s face. So young and hurt. Bucky would pay a fuck load of money to _never_ see that expression _or_ hear Steve sound this pained _ever_ again. And it’s his fault. Guilt squirm inside of him like a pile of worms.

 

“Steve...” Bucky looks up for help. “I’m not the guy you remember. That guy died a long time ago. I...HYDRA had me for years. Decades. They used me to kill... so many people.” Howard’s shocked expression flits through his mind and he squeezes his eyes shut hard enough to see blobs of white. “I’ve got so much blood on my hand. The things I’ve seen. The things I’ve _done._ It’s changed me.”

 

 _I don’t want to let you down_. Bucky wants to say this but he can’t. It hurts too much to admit to himself. Giving voice to this is beyond him.

 

“You’re still the same guy underneath it all.”

 

Stupid loyal Steve. He never knew when to stop fighting. Always vouched stoutly for his friends. Loyal to a fault. Laughing weakly, Bucky shook his head. “You don’t know that. You’ve got no way of knowing that. And it’s not even because of what HYDRA did to me. I lived through a _war_ , Steve. The worst war _ever_. That’s the kind of thing that changes you all the way down to your core. 

 

He presses the heel of his palm against his eye, whispering, “The things I’ve seen...they still haunt me. I’ve got so much PTSD all together, I don’t get how I’m still a person and not just a bag of bad memories.”

 

Xavier has been guiding him on differentiating between Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes. The two aren’t the same. Winter Soldier was HYDRA’s weapon. Bucky Barnes is a man. It’s not easy drawing that line between the two. The two feel inextricably intertwined.

 

“Buck.” Bucky holds his breath when Steve speaks. The way Steve calls his name this time. It’s careful. So careful. “If you’ve changed? You would have punched through me on that helicarrier. You wouldn’t have pulled me out of the river.”

 

This is what being struck by lightning must feel like. Disbelief, pure disbelief shoots through him, causing him to freeze in his seat. No, he wants to argue. That doesn’t prove anything. It doesn’t! He just... he just didn’t...

 

“I couldn’t leave you there.”

 

The hoarse admission slips out before he can bite down on it.

 

“To the end of the line, right?”

 

 _Fuck_. Bucky buries his face in his hands and sob’s out a laugh.

 

Fucking Steve Rogers. He doesn’t know what he did to have a friend like Steve but he’s grateful for it.

 

“Steve...”

 

“You’re stuck with me pal. I ain’t goin’ anywhere without you. No anymore.”

 

Bucky smiles through his tears.

 

\--

 

Tony waits in the living room. If anyone asks, he’s doing his work. If anyone sits and watches for five minutes, they’ll see he’s holding himself back from eavesdropping on the conversation going on down the hall. He’s trying a new thing: respecting other people’s privacy. It’s a lot harder than he realized but he keeps reminding himself that butting his nose into this conversation isn’t going to help Bucky. The guy needs to talk to Rogers himself. Tony can’t act like a mother trying to get her two kids to get along. Tony scowls at himself when he makes that comparison.

 

Tony cracks exactly twice during his four hour stint. One at the one hour mark where he has JARVIS pulling up the security feed for Bucky’s room. He sees Bucky scrubbing the bathroom tiles while Rogers patiently waits with his back to the wall on the other side of Bucky’s door. The second time, Tony looks up from his work because he thinks he’s heard something. He peeks around the corner and hears Rogers asking if Bucky’s been around town or not. With a relieved sigh, Tony leaves the pair to it.

 

His guess was right. Steve’s stubbornness and loyalty have won over Bucky’s fear. Tony gives himself a mental pat on the back and goes back to work for real. He’s making corrections to some designs when Rogers walks into the living room. Jesus. He looks so young with his red rimmed eyes and droopy shoulders. He scrubs his forearm against his eyes with a hard sniff.

 

Praying that Rogers isn’t gonna start crying, Tony clears his throat. It’s the most polite way he can think of to let the other man know he’s not alone here.

 

Rogers starts hard, baby blue eyes flying open in surprise before they close. “Stark,” he exhales. “How long have you been here?”

 

“About five minutes after you left my lab.”

 

He crosses his arms, ready for Rogers to scowl and made some snide comment that Tony didn’t have any manners. If Rogers comes even _close_ to implying that, Tony’s gonna shoot back that he was worried for Bucky’s well being and make some dig that he doesn’t trust Rogers to act like a bull in a China shop when it comes to Bucky’s mental well being.

 

To his surprise, Rogers nods distractedly, breathing slow and careful. Relaxing, Tony takes a step forward to ask, “You okay?”

 

“It’s just... it’s a lot to take in.” Rogers admits. The man’s thousand yard stare is starting to worry Tony.

 

“You want to sit down?”

 

Rogers shakes his head. Tony suddenly realizes that Rogers’ hand is trembling. He walks up to the man and touches his elbow. He braces himself for a reaction of some kind but there’s nothing. The trembling grows as Tony guides Rogers down into the nearest chair.

 

“I’m gonna get you some water, okay?”

 

It doesn’t look like Rogers has heard him. _Jesus_ , Tony thinks wildly as he jogs to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. How’d _he_ wind up being the guy helping others when they’re having meltdowns? How is this his life now?

 

Rogers accepts the glass when Tony presses it into his hand and stares at it. “I feel like an idiot.”

 

“It’s a big club,” Tony warily answers. “Don’t worry about it, big guy.”

 

Shaking his head, Rogers argues. “No. I am. I’m an idiot. I don’t know why I thought Bucky’d be happy to see me too?”

 

“Hey, that’s not true. I’m sure he’s happy as hell to see you again!”

 

But Rogers talks over him. “I didn’t stop to think... not even once! What he’s been through. I just. I just wanted my best friend back. If I was a better friend I’d have thought about how he felt. I wouldn’t have been so fucking selfish!”

 

The glass cracks in Rogers’ hand but it thankfully doesn’t break. Tony hurriedly pulls the glass out of Rogers hands. Limbs free, Rogers buries his face in his hands.  _Please don’t cry, please don’t cry_ , Tony silently begs as he stares at Rogers hidden face.

 

“Rogers...Steve,” Tony sighs. “You didn’t know. You were just happy to know your best friend was still alive. There’s nothing wrong in wanting your friend back. I know I’d go through Hell and back to for Rhodey. I wouldn’t say it’s a bad thing.”

 

Rogers finally looks up, eyes brimming with tears. In a gentler tone, Tony tells him, “Be grateful he’s alive. That means you get to apologize for your mistake. And knowing Bucky? He’ll forgive you too. You’ve got to count your blessings.”

 

Shakily breathing in, Rogers nods. “You’re right. I need to be there for him _now_.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“I should move in here too.”

 

Tony double takes so hard he pulls a muscle, “Say that again?”

 

Rogers’ jaw has locked in determination, not catching how he’s tripped up Tony. “I should be here to help Bucky. The best thing would be to move in too.”

 

“Whoa, whoa, _whoa_!” Tony makes a time-out gesture. “How about you ask him first if he wants you around 24/7 like a buff Florence Nightingale on crack? You can’t just...do what you want here. It’s got to be about Bucky.”

 

There’s a quick flash of anger in Rogers’ eyes that immediately shifts to dismay and then contrition. _Yeah_ , Tony thinks. _Glad you’re realizing you were about to make the same mistake twice here_.

 

“Listen. How about you go back to your place, rest up. If you want to leave a message for Bucky, you can dictate it to JARVIS.”

 

“I’d like that,” Rogers smiles at him. “Thank you Tony.”

 

Huh. This might be the first time Rogers has called him by his first name. His name sounds nice when its got that much gratitude behind it.

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

\--

 

Bucky may or may not have cried after receiving that message from Steve.

 

He can’t help but feel just a little ashamed of himself because he should have believed in his friend. In the guy who always believed in him, who always stood firm next to him, who has seen him at his best and worst, and still said, “You’re my best friend.”

 

Bucky pours over the short message for days, reading and re-reading it until courage and hope overcome everything else and he’s writing his own message back. It’s messy and convoluted but they’re his words. He apologizes, he explains, he asks for patience, he hopes for compassion. Bucky lets it all out. All the words he’s been holding back. And that gets the ball rolling. It doesn’t take long for him and Steve to be exchanging long-ass emails that shift from talking about them to talking about how they’re both dealing to mundane things about their new daily lives.

 

One day, Bucky stares at his inbox and decides it’s going to take too long to write his answer out and calls Steve. The man picks up after the second ring with a crisp, “Steve Rogers.”

 

Instead of saying hello like a normal person, Bucky just says, “You’ve got no taste.”

 

Silence.

 

Bucky feels like an idiot and starts, “Sorry, It’s m-”

 

“ _Why_ don’t I have taste?” Steve asks curiously.

 

“Because you don’t like reality TV.”

 

He can _hear_ the eye roll in Steve’s tone. “There’s _nothing_ to like about reality TV. It’s all garbage.”

 

“That’s only because you haven’t seen _good_ reality TV shows!”

 

“That’s an oxymoron if I ever heard one.”

 

That leads to a solid 5 minute speech where Bucky exalts the virtues of the Great British Bake Off, Chopped, Antiques Roadshow, and Catfish. That somehow leads to them talking about how they’d kick everyone’s butts at American Ninja Warrior and the conversation just... rabbit holes from there. Bucky looks up and realizes JARVIS is flashing a message on the screen telling him that Tony’s been shanghaied into a dinner meeting and won’t be coming home.

 

He must make some kind of noise because Steve asks, “Something happen?”

 

“Just got a message from Tony. He won’t be coming home for dinner.” Bucky hates eating alone, always has. It’s that combined with the desire to see Steve again that has him tentatively offering, “You want to come over?”

 

“I’ll be right over,” Steve promises in a rush and hangs up.

 

Bucky starts, pulling the phone away from his ear to stare at the screen to make sure that... yeah. Steve just hung up on him because he’s _that_ eager to meet Bucky. Never mind it’s only four freaking fifteen PM, _hours_ away from dinner. He laughs and laughs until he has to wipe tears away from his eyes.

 

The first thing he’s going to do when Steve walks into the living room? Is give him a big ass bear hug.

 

\--

 

Tony goes from not having seen Rogers since they parted ways after the Battle of New York, to seeing him in his living room practically every day. It’s a little weird, especially when he finds him fiercely cursing Bucky out for cheating as they play Mario Kart. Tony stands there for a moment, pinching himself to make sure he’s not dreaming because he didn’t just hear Captain America curse a blue streak while Bucky grins like a maniac.

 

Bucky completes the lap and throws his hands up. “You owe me $20! Oh, hey Tony. You’re back early.”

 

Two pairs of blue eyes turn to him. Tony nods at the TV. “Where’d you get that?”

 

“I bought it,” Rogers says. “You wanna play too?”

 

Tony stares in surprise, not expecting the offer much less from Rogers. He shouldn’t say yes. He’s got work to do. He’s promised Pepper he’ll review the latest R&D reports and send her a summary of which products they’ll begin working on in the next three years. He’s also got upgrades scheduled for his bots. Plus Natasha had asked him to look at her Bites because they were malfunctioning and the SHIELD staff couldn’t figure out what’s wrong.

 

But there’s a hopeful gleam in Rogers _and_ Bucky’s eyes that has Tony shucking his jacket and sitting down next to Bucky, asking, “No one’s got an issue if I pick Bowser, right?”

 

The next 60 minutes are the most surreal, amazing, _hilarious_ hour of his life. Tony learns the following: Bucky tries to cheat by elbowing him and Steve whenever he can to try and send  them off track. Rogers curses like hell, whether he’s winning or losing. He also gloats. A _lot_.

 

Rogers cheats as well, in the very last race, by shoving Bucky so hard he flops over into Tony’s lap and then _sits on him_ , while Bucky howls, finishes the lap (because suddenly having another body dropping his lap made Bowser careen wildly off track), and declares, “Sushi for dinner.”

 

“ _No_!” Bucky complains, finally having managed to free himself from out of Rogers.

 

Rogers turns to him, asking, “Winner picks what we’re having for dinner, right?”

 

Tony grins, “That _was_ the deal.”

 

“You _cheated_!”

 

“Like you didn’t cheat too!”

 

They’re brothers in all but blood, Tony thinks in wonder. And then he wonders if him and Rhodey look like this from the outside as well. He hopes they do. He grins, leaning out of the way when the pair starts rough housing, trying to grab the other in a headlock. They tumble off the couch and onto the floor when Tony kicks one of them (he honestly can’t tell who he kicked) and tells them, “If you’re gonna fight, take it to the gym.”

 

He gets twin sheepishly apologetic looks in return. Tony shakes his head fondly, dusting his pants clean before he stands up. “It’s been fun. I gotta get to work.”

 

“Aw come on, Tony,” Bucky wheedles. “At least eat with us. You can work after that.”

 

It’s tempting. Bucky’s expressed his distaste for sushi because the idea of eating raw fish makes him squirm. He’s been adventurous in trying all kinds of food but he’s avoided Japanese cuisine as hard as he can. It’ll be entertaining if nothing else. But Tony doesn’t want to intrude between the friends. He’s ready to make an excuse, which isn’t even an excuse, that he’s got a ton of work to do.

 

He’s surprised when Rogers joins in. “Please, Tony.”

 

Aw jeez. How’s he supposed to say no to Captain America’s baby blues? Tony resigns himself to a long night of work before he tells JARVIS to call his usual sushi place. The funniest part about dinner winds up to be _not_ Bucky’s squeamishness at eating raw fish. But rather the utter shock on Rogers’ face when Bucky winds up _liking_ sushi so much that he keeps stealing pieces from Rogers’ plate.

 

It’s the most fun Tony’s had in a long time. And that’s not a statement he ever thought he’d say about a situation involving Steve Rogers.

 

\--

 

“He calls you Bucky?”

 

“Yeah. I asked him too. Why? What’s wrong with that?”

 

“Nothing it’s just.” Steve hesitates before asking lowly, “He doesn’t call you weird nicknames?”

 

“Like what?”

 

“I don’t know... he keeps calling me Capsicle and Captain Annoying and stuff like that.”

 

There’s no keeping his amused snorts to himself. Steve flushes in embarrassment and Bucky laughs harder. “He _really_ calls you that?”

 

“Yeah. I mean, he calls Thor Point Break, Bruce is his Science Bro, Clint is bird brains. But he doesn’t use a lot of nicknames with them the way he does for me.” Steve shoots him a disbelieving look, “He’s _never_ used a nickname for you?”

 

Bucky shakes his head, “I mean, he’s calls me Terminator sometimes because of the arm...does that count?”

 

The conversation sticks with him long after Steve’s visit. A few days later at dinner, as Tony tips the last of the mixed vegetables out of the takeout counter and into a bowl, Bucky asks, “How come you never gave me a nickname?”

 

Tony’s picked up dinner from some new place he drove by. Apparently he’d been craving Italian and he’d caught sight of this place and sauntered in to pick up their dinner. Bucky hopes the foot tastes as good as it looks.

 

“I call you Terminator a lot. Besides,” Tony rolls his eyes, peeking into the oven to see how the lasagna is reheating. Bucky’s tempted to remind him that staring the dish down isn’t going to make it heat up faster but refrains.  “You already _have_ a nickname, _Bucky_. Why do you want another one?”

 

“I don’t...” Bucky exhales, putting the bread roll basket down with more care than necessary before he admits, “Steve and I were talking...”

 

“That’s never a good sign.” Tony slips on a rooster shaped oven mitt and opens the oven door.

 

He ignores the mumbled comment. “And he said you keep calling him all sorts of nicknames. Capsicle and stuff.”

 

“He’s an easy target, what can I say.” Tony places the lasagna down on the table, tosses the mitt back on the counter, plops down in his chair before gesturing for Bucky to follow. “Does he not enjoy my rapier wit?”

 

“I think he was more... confused why he’s the one getting a ton of nicknames.” Bucky takes a good chunk of lasagna out of the pan before passing it to Tony. “He was _really_ confused why you haven’t given me a nickname.”

 

“Terminator,” Tony reminds him.

 

It’s tempting to toss a bread roll at Tony’s head. Instead he rolls his eyes and mutters, “I’ll tell him that next time.”

 

Tony takes generous portions of the lasagna, green beans, and mixed vegetables before taking two bread rolls too. When he sees Bucky’s surprised look, the man defensively says, “What? I’m hungry.”

 

“You forgot to eat anything after your morning coffee, didn’t you?”

 

Tony tucks into the food, humming in delight. Bucky takes that as a yes. He’s tempted to say the man would forget his head if it wasn’t attached to his head but that would only happen when Tony’s in one of his hyper-focus modes. So, maybe it’s just more likely Tony’s going to starve to death and then wonder why his stomach hurts.

 

“Must have been a busy day today.”

 

“Yep,” Tony mumbles. “Had meetings and sprint sessions and I forgot we were having this hackathon thing today too. Barely had time to breathe, much less eat.”

 

The man immediately launches into the details of his day and Bucky is happy to let Tony take the brunt of the conversational initiative.

 

\--

 

“Can I ask you something?”

 

Tony doesn’t start but it’s a near thing. His head is stuck up the body of his Iron Man suit, which is suspended on top of the launch pad with heavy chains. An update hasn’t been working out like planned and he’s been trying to get to the bottom of it. He’s at least figured out it’s some mistake in the circuitry, an overload of some kind if he has to make a guess. JARVIS has helped him pinpoint the problem from somewhere in TB-65.

 

“Just did, Cap,” Tony replies because there’s few things in life as much as winding up Captain America. Sure they’re on better terms now with Bucky as a mutual friend. But he’s a simple man who derives pleasure from the small things in life. He only wishes he wasn’t half way inside his suit. But there’s always replaying this footage to see what kind of face Roger’s is making to his cheek.

 

He still hears the heavy sigh Rogers lets out and grins harder. “It’s about Bucky.” Tony hums to imply he’s listening, pulling a circuit out of it’s slot to squint at it using the light of the torch he’s clipped to his head. Everything looks okay... no fuses blown, no lines out of place. Next one then.

 

“Why did you decide to help him?”

 

Tony _has_ to stick his head out Iron Man’s torso to look at Rogers as he asks, “Really? _That’s_ what you want to ask?” When Rogers glares him down, arms crossed around his expansive chest, Tony says, “I don’t need a reason to help someone. Especially when they _ask_ me for help.”

 

“So you didn’t do it for me?”

 

“Why would I do that?”

 

It slips out of him before he can catch it, complete befuddlement in his tone because honestly, how would that be a factor? And okay, _maybe_ he shouldn’t have said that the way he did because Rogers _honest to God_ looks so hurt by the question.

 

Which. Again. _Why_?

 

Tony clears his throat, hoping it will clear up his awkward feeling that’s prickling against his skin before trying again, “Why do you assume I did it because of you?”

 

“Because...I thought...you helped him because he was... _is_ my best friend.”

 

Ah. Tony turns the torch off before settling down on the stool he’s been standing on. This is going to be a conversation he needs to be seated for. “That wasn’t why. I told you. He came to me asking for help. I don’t refuse requests like that, not if I can help it.”

 

Rogers stares at him like he’s sprouted a second head. Tony has to check himself over to make sure there isn’t anything funny going on because it’s weird and makes him want to fidget. Rogers has never looked at him like this. Usually Tony gets irritated looks (because he’s being his usual self in the middle of a strategy meeting or didn’t _exactly_ follow Cap’s orders to the T), relieved looks (because he jumps in just at the right time or walks away from something that would have killed lesser men), or confused looks (because he’s made a reference doesn’t get and will probably Google as soon as he’s alone).

 

This look is...it’s new. It’s like Rogers’ seeing him for the first time and he’s amazed by what he sees. It makes Tony squirm and ask, “ _What_?”

 

“I just realized...” Rogers shakes his head before trying again, “You’re a good man, Tony. I’m sorry it took me so long to see that. I’m sorry for the things I said to you back in the helicarrier.”

 

“Water under the bridge, Cap,” Tony answers, discomfort rising. He ducks his head back inside his armor, needing a physical barrier between himself and Rogers’ earnestness. “I never took what you said seriously. Knew it was Loki’s staff messing with us.”

 

He hears Rogers take a step closer and swallows. He thoughtlessly pokes at another circuit board as he rambles, “I gotta apologize for what I said too. It was out of line. Doesn’t matter if Loki’s magical bullshit was influencing us, I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

 

Tony feels pressure being exerted against the stool. He sneaks a peek down and sees Rogers is leaning his hip against it. Jesus. If he turns, his crotch is gonna be right at Rogers’ eye level.  _Talk about giving me an eye full,_ Tony’s treacherous brain thinks and he struggles not to burst into juvenile giggles.

 

He forces himself to focus on what Rogers is saying. "Anyways, it’s not like what you said wasn’t true.”

 

Tony sticks his head out of the armor with a scowl, clearly to Rogers’ surprise because he starts gently. “They tried to make the serum work on people before you and it didn’t work. The formula was the same. But it worked for _you_. That _proves_ that the person matters more than what was in that serum. Cap, you’ve got the unique privilege of hearing me apologize to your face. Take it for the rare opportunity that it is. I was wrong about what I said.”

 

Blinking, Rogers stares back at him before he nods slowly. “Right. Um. Thank you. I’m sorry too. For what I said.”

 

“Apology accepted.”

 

This is probably up there in the top ten most surreal conversations he’s had with anyone. Tony thinks about that and revises the thought. Top twenty yes. Top ten, no. Figuring the conversation over, he turns his torch on and goes back into his armor. He’s a little surprised when he continues to feel pressure being exerted against his stool, implying that Rogers is still standing there.

 

“What are you working on?”

 

Tony hesitates before deciding in a split second, what the heck, no harm in telling their fearless leader about what he’s doing. “Trying to find a short circuit. Listen. Not that I don’t appreciate you dropping in but is there some Avenger business we need to talk about or something?”

 

“No, no Avenger business. I just. I wanted to talk to you.”

 

“About why I decided to help Bucky.” Tony pulls another circuit board out and stares at it. Aha. There’s the culprit. Tony tucks it into his back pocket and lowers himself out of the armor. “JARVIS, hang it up until I remake this board.”

 

Rogers hesitates a moment before following Tony as he tosses his torch on the closest table and takes a seat. “That and uh, a couple of other things. Nothing that important.”

 

He can’t help but shoot Rogers an amused look. “It’s got to be important to bring you down here. Come on, spill. Before I tip you, Cap.”

 

Gingerly taking a seat across the table from him, Rogers says, “Why do you do that? Call me Cap.”

 

“That’s your name.”

 

“My name is Steve Rogers,” Rogers points out dryly. “Not Captain America.”

 

Touching his chest in mock surprise, Tony jokes, “So you _don’t_ go to sleep in your red, white, and blue spandex? I’m shocked!”

 

“Tony...” Rogers sighs, runs a hand through his hair before he tries again. “Did I do something to upset you? I’d just. I like us to be friends.”

 

Tony looks down, struggling not to show the reaction the question sparks in him. Did Steve Rogers ever so something personally to upset him? No. But was he someone Tony grew up resenting because he could never come even close to matching the living legend Howard used to praise as being the best man he ever knew.

 

It’s not his fault that Howard as a jerk. Tony’s known this for a while. He’d learned a long, long time ago that there was no pleasing Howard, no matter what did. He’d stopped resenting the man and started to admire him. Captain America was the best hero, a paragon of virtue and patriotism. He stood for all things good and just. Tony grew to admire him. Which is probably why their ugly first meeting stung more than he’d like to admit. That hurt had stayed with him for a while. He exhales, rooting around in a drawer for nothing in particular to create the image of being busy, Tony says, “We’re friends.”

 

“Are we?”

 

The plaintive note in Rogers’ voice makes him pause. He can’t help but exhale tiredly and look up. Rogers is staring down at his lap. A few strands of hair have fallen loose from the gel’s grip, falling fetchingly over Rogers’ brow.

 

Tony scrubs the back of his head, wishing Pepper was here to help. “Look. Just because our first meeting was a total shit-show doesn’t mean that’s got to stay the gold standard for our relationship. I admit, I didn’t think the best of you at first. But things have changed.” Rogers hopeful gaze catches his. It’s odd how the look softens the tension coursing through him. Tony smiles softly. “I honestly consider you a friend, Steve.”

 

The _smile_ that brings to Rogers’ face is _brilliant_. Tony feels himself melting like butter in a skillet under that smile. And when it turns so painfully hopeful? Tony wants to tell Rogers to stop it.

 

“If were friends, can I ask you for a favor?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Tony’s curious what kind of a favor Captain America wants too.

 

“Can you stop calling me Capsicle?”

 

Tony can’t help but laugh, shaking his head. “Nope.”

 

Rogers groans and wheedles, “Come on. Please?”

 

“No can do~” Tony sing-songs, grinning as wide as he can. “Sorry. I won’t stop the nicknames. Your reactions as too good.”

 

Sighing, Rogers sits back in his chair. “Can you at least stop calling me Rogers then? Every time you do that I feel like I’m back in the army.”

 

“That,” Tony points at him. “I can do.”

 

The smile that Ro-Steve gives him for that leaves Tony with the very distinct feeling that he’s gotten himself into a whole lot of trouble somehow.

 

\--

 

Steve used to say that Bucky was a ladies man. That he always knew what to say to attract a girl to his side and keep her there. Bucky wishes that was one quality he’d retained from his past but he also feels that his old tricks and flirtations wouldn’t capture Natasha’s attention. He gets the feeling, rather, Natasha wouldn’t give him the time of day if he tried.

 

This leaves him mildly floundering whenever he spends time along with Natasha, something that happens more and more. It starts with her visiting the Tower and she invites him to watch a movie. She was a quiet support when him and Tony were on the out. Afterwards, she asked him out once and it’s become a bit of standing date where they go out whenever she’s in town. Here’s the thing, see. _She’s_ the one who usually asks him out, even if he's the one who calls her first. She’s the one who takes that first step. Bucky feels...he feels left behind, for the lack of a better term. He wants to be the one to ask her out next time. He wants to take her out to a nice restaurant and maybe take her dancing. But how does he do that?

 

When he asks Tony, he gets a dry, “Maybe try _asking her_? I don’t see how this is even a problem. Haven’t you guys been on like, ten dates already? You’re going steady in my books.”

 

Chalking his advice up as useless, Bucky calls Steve for help. Steve’s stunned into silence for a solid ten seconds before he tentatively asks, “ _You’re_ asking _me_ for dating advice?”

 

Bucky’s tempted to hang up there and then. In the end, Steve says the same thing Tony did: just ask her. With great reluctance, Bucky decides he’s going to do it. He won’t use any pick up lines or anything. The next time he talks with Natasha, he’s just... ugh...going to ask her if she wants to go out with him.

 

She calls him a few days later. Bucky listens to her talk about her mission, mentally gathering the courage to just... say those words. Say them Barnes. God, why didn’t he call Pepper and ask for her advice? Or even Happy?

 

“What about you? How’s everything going?”

 

“Do you want to go out with me?” Bucky blurts out, recognizing a beat too late that just because it’s his turn to talk doesn’t mean he paid attention to what he was asked.

 

Natasha’s quiet for a moment before slowly answering, “I thought we were already going out.”

 

Oh God. Tony was right. The man’s not going to stop being smug about it. Bucky rushes to correct himself, “I meant, on a date. I uh. I’m asking you out on a date. For dinner.”

 

Bucky would very much appreciate it if someone could just, smother him with a pillow. He hasn’t been this clumsy in asking a girl out since he was _twelve_. The only saving grace is that he’s asking on the phone and Natasha can’t see him cringing at how stupid he sounds.

 

Soft chuckles pour in from the other end of the line. “Okay,” Natasha agrees. “Where do you want to go?”

 

Crap.

 

“Um... I’ll get back to you on that?”

 

More laughter, in the same fond and gentle tone. “Let me know at least a day in advance. I need to know what I’m going to wear.”

 

That sounds suggestive. That sounds _very_ suggestive. Bucky swallows and murmurs back, “You always look good, Natasha, no matter what you wear.”

 

Natasha hums, “You’re sweet. Listen, I need to go. But text me where we’re going okay?”

 

“I will.”

 

Bucky hangs up with a grin on his face.

 

 _Still got it_.

 

\--

 

If there’s one habit Tony hasn’t grown out of even after hitting forty, it’s being a little shit. And honestly, nothing is more satisfying at an existential level than being a little shit towards your friend, who is panicking about going out on a date with a person they like. And you know what makes it _better_ this time? Steve’s joining in on the fun instead of just chiding Tony.

 

They give Bucky (gentle) hell as he’s getting ready, joking about curfews and keeping his hands to himself young man. Bucky steadily ignores them as he gets ready, muttering about how he’s going to make Happy his new best friend.

 

“Do you need a condom?” Tony asks, only half kidding. The thought of a Black Widow and Winter Soldier baby is kind of terrifying. That’d be one scarily competent kid.

 

Steve nods, “Better give him one. Oh and don’t forget mints.”

 

Bucky finishes knotting his tie and turns to glare at them. “What the hell do you think is gonna happen by the end of this date?”

 

Tony taps into his inner eleven year old and makes a lewd gesture with his hands. Steve frowns faintly at him but doesn’t argue otherwise. Which makes Bucky make this annoyed expression and Steve say, “It’s a natural assumption to make. You guys _are_ going steady.”

 

“No, we’re not,” Bucky moves to grab his jacket.

 

Tony exchanges a surprised look with Steve. “Um. _Pretty sure_ you are.”

 

“ _No_ , we’re _not_.”

 

“But...” Steve says, “You’ve been on a whole bunch of dates together.”

 

“And Natasha doesn’t do casual dating.” Tony’s reasonably confident on that. “She doesn’t date _period_. But you’ve been going out with her every time she’s in town. You’re dating one of the world’s best spies. Accept the truth and it will set you free.”

 

Bucky buttons his jacket with a frown. “But we haven’t talked about that. I mean. She hasn’t said that we’re a couple.”

 

And here Tony thought _he_ was a disaster at relationships. He can’t stop himself from gesturing at Bucky with one hand while asking Steve, “I thought he was good at dating? Isn’t that what you said?”

 

“Hey!” Bucky complains with great affront.

 

Steve shrugs, “He is. He used to score dates all the time. Had a couple of girlfriends too. He never got this flustered about them.”

 

Oh ho ho ho, is that right? A cheshire cat grin spreads across Tony’s face as he turns to face Bucky. “Then Natasha’s the wild card here. _She’s_ the one making you nervous.”

 

Steve mumbles, “Dating her would make _me_ nervous too.”

 

But Tony ignores him in favor of poking Bucky in the ribs. “Come on, Barnes, spill the beans. Do you love her? What makes her special that she makes you lose your cool?”

 

He’s a little sad that the question doesn’t make Bucky blush but he _does_ scowl defensively. It’s not the best reaction to get but it’s _a_ reaction. Tony will take what he can get. He anticipates denials and such but, to his surprise, Bucky’s scowl melts away into a thoughtful expression. “I don’t know about love,” Bucky begins quietly. “But she _is_ special. I wouldn’t be able to tell you why but... she just _is_. I think the biggest thing is she’s never treated me differently. She looks at me and sees... _me_.” He looks up at Tony and Steve with a pleading expression, “Does that make sense?”

 

Tony feels his lips turning up at one corner. “Yeah. It does.”

 

That’s how he used to feel in those first few weeks of dating Pepper. It was like she saw through all the defenses and masks and saw plain old Tony. It had been...freeing. He looks over at Steve and finds himself entranced with the gentle look of longing in his blue eyes. When Steve realizes Tony’s staring at him, he looks at him and smiles faintly at him.

 

Ah. Steve knows what Bucky’s talking about too. Tony pats Bucky’s shoulder. “You _should_ talk to her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s pissed at you for not realizing you’re going out already.”

 

“I think she’d had said that if we _were_ ,” Bucky points wryly.

 

Tony _almost_ brings the topic up himself when Natasha comes up but Steve, the traitor, slaps a hand over his mouth and cheerfully teases the couple, “Don’t forget your curfew, Buck. We’ll be waiting.”

 

The temptation to lick Steve’s palm and see his grossed out face is _tremendous_. But Tony is an adult. So he bares his teeth and tries to bite Steve instead. Steve makes an appalled face as Tony yells, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” as the elevator slides to a close.

 

And that leaves him and Steve. Alone. Steve seems to realize this at the same time he does and takes a step towards the elevator. “I should go to.”

 

Before he can stop himself, Tony jumps forward to grab Steve’s wrist. “Don’t.”

 

They blink at each other in surprise before Tony hurriedly rambles, “You don’t _have_ to go. You could stay. We could watch a movie or, uh, play a game or something. You just...” Tony carefully lets go of Steve’s wrist and takes half a step back, realizing that even if he wants Steve to stay, he needs to not be so damn desperate about it. “You don’t have to go.”

 

Tony wants to fidget under Steve’s gaze. And also maybe slap his palm against his head a couple of hundred times because that? That was the height of desperation. There’s no way Steve’s going to want to stay. He’s probably got shit to do, SHIELD reports to write, and uh...other shit. He’s a busy man.

 

“I’d like that.”

 

He looks up with a startled blink. Steve’s smiling back at him. Tony’s not imagining the hopeful look in his eyes right? He’s not reading too much into it? (God, please don’t let him be misreading the situation here...) “Yeah?” Tony asks breathlessly. “I’ll pick the movie, you pick what we’re ordering in?”

 

And just like that, the mood is gone because Tony had to go and put his foot in it. Steve points over at the kitchen. “Why can’t we make something?”

 

Crap.

 

“Uhhhh...” Tony tries to think of a good excuse to explain why the fridge has been empty for two days. One that doesn’t involve telling the truth aka Tony forgot to put in an order with the company to restock the fridge. He needs to change it to a recurring order when he finds the time or remembers it at the right moment.

 

Steve gives him an intensely judgmental look, grabs him by the elbow, and pulls him to the elevator. “We’re going grocery shopping.”

 

“Now?” Tony whines, dragging his feet just a little. “I’m not dressed for this.”

 

Clear blue eyes rake up and down his figure. Tony wishes he was wearing his nicer jeans. The ones that cling snug around his thighs and ass. Steve shakes his head in confusion, “You look good. You just need to wear your shoes.”

 

Good? Tony looks down at his work jeans and dirty t-shirt and wonders what’s Steve’s looking at? He points at different grease stains and burns, asking, “This is one coffee stain away from hobo territory, Steve. Let me change my shirt at least.”

 

“I still think you look good,” Steve complains even as he lets Tony go.

 

\--

 

Bucky pauses one day to look around himself and is surprised to find how far he’s come since he’d “woken up.” He’s got a roof over his head, a friend base that’s slowly growing as his friends introduce him to their friends, a _girlfriend_ , and a new prosthetic arm. The flashbacks he’s having now, are vague memories of living life instead of taking them. The last nightmare he had, was well over ten days ago. A new record for himself.

 

For the first time in this time, Bucky finds himself thinking about the future. What does he want to do? How can not just survive but how does he _live_? How does he start to build a proper life for himself where he can sustain himself and not remain dependent on his friends?

 

Above all, how does he start to make amends? That answer at least, is the easiest one to arrive at. He needs to stop hiding and share the truth.

 

He talks with Xavier about it, he talks with Steve and Tony about it. They warn him it’s not going to be easy but support him fully. Tony finds him a lawyer who used to work with SHIELD and will now help Bucky “come into the future.” Due to the SHIELD leaks, anyone who cares to look deep enough, would know that Bucky was Winter Soldier. They need to build their case. They need to prove it wasn’t Bucky. That he’d been used. All the SHIELD leaks, combined with Natasha, Steve, and Tony’s research, needs to be sifted through.

 

It’s exhausted, going through his own history with the lawyer, telling him everything he remembers, what’s true and what’s false. That means spending long, tiring days in an unfamiliar office with a stranger who deliberately pokes holes in his shaky story. Bucky takes heart in the fact that he’s at least, still in the Tower. But it’s a lot of ground to cover. What has he done? Who ordered him? Where was he? How many times was he woken up? What broke the programming this time? What’s his relationship to Tony Stark? Why is he coming forward now? What are his motives? Why didn’t he come forward sooner?

 

Some of the questions piss him off. What does his relationship with Tony have anything to do with his decision to come forward? So what if he’s friends with Captain America? He doesn’t remember what he doesn’t remember, what does Chuck want him to do about it? It’s frustrating to say the least. Today’s session has been less emotionally taxing but still frustrating. They’ve been trying to figure out a strategy for him coming forward. Should they do a press conference? Should he turn himself in? If he turns himself in, into whose custody? They’ve agreed that he should turn himself but to whom remains the sticking point. The lawyer says he should quietly submit himself to the newly resurrected SHIELD. Bucky wants to turn himself over to the FBI openly. He doesn’t want to hide anymore. 

 

Bucky’s on his way to gym to beat some of his anger out into a sandbag. He’s a few steps away from the door when he notices two things in succession: the door is ajar, and someone’s already inside. Instincts taking over, Bucky lightly approaches the open door and peeks in. It’s Steve and Tony. They’re circling each other on the mats, boxing, playfully trash-talking each other. Steve’s got tape on while Tony’s wearing the protective headgear and gloves. Tony’s surprisingly patient, but he still is the one to make the first move.

 

Steve dodges, laughing as he taunts, “Gotta move faster, Tony.”

 

“Says the actual ninety-year-old,” Tony snipes back and jabs with his left. With surprising speed, Tony unleashes a series of moves that Steve dodges or blocks with ease too. And when Steve’s in his reach, Tony, that sneaky ass, smacks his elbow into Steve’s face. The man cackles with delight as Steve staggers back, a hand cupped protectively against his nose.

 

“What the hell was that?” he asks, half admiring and half annoyed. “I thought we were boxing!”

 

“Nope, you said lets spar. Everything goes in sparring, including mixed martial arts.” Tony bounces on his feet. “That all you got, Cap?”

 

Oh, _that’s_ a mistake. Steve grins and goes for it. He drops boxing rules and tries to brawl. It reminds him of the so many times where Steve would try to hold his ground against the bullies that’d pick on him. The goal isn’t to stick to the rules; it’s to bring the other person down. But Tony’s a clever fighter. He doesn’t use the rules and is adaptive as hell. At one point, where Steve grabs him by the waist, Tony wraps his legs around the other man’s chest, twists, and somehow winds up bringing them both down on their sides. The suddenness of his action surprises Steve enough that he loosens his grip and Tony squirms back up to his feet.

 

Before long though, Steve overpowers Tony. And it’s the _way_ he pins Tony that really has Bucky’s eyebrows shooting up. They’re rolling around on the floor, grunting as they try to get the upper hand and then suddenly, Steve manages to straddle Tony’s hips and pin his hands above his head all in one swift move. Tony struggles but Steve leans in, applying more pressure to keep the smaller man in place.

 

“Gotcha,” Steve grins brilliantly, sweat soaked hair falling into his eyes. Tony’s somehow lost his head guard in the last five minutes. His hair, which was a mess anyways, has become a birds nest during his attempts to escape.

 

When Steve tightens his knees against Tony’s hips, Bucky sees a several expressions flash over both the men’s faces before they’re scrambling up to their feet. Steve’s face goes from delighted to appalled at himself to so embarrassed his face is doing a reasonable approximation of a beetroot. Tony, meanwhile, goes from dazed to deprived to... It’s like he just stuffs all his emotions into a box and puts this mask on. It’s a little freaky to see how fast Tony can put that front up.

 

He watches them bluster for a bit before turning around, retracing his steps lightly and walking back towards the gym, only he takes care to make as much as possible to announce his presence, going so far as to ask JARVIS if someone’s in the gym already. By the time he enters, the pair have moved onto different parts of the gym. Steve’s shadow boxing and Tony’s jogging on a treadmill, their backs to each other.

 

\--

 

Having Steve around somehow, turns the Tower from a house to a home. It’s also the beginning all the Avengers slowly but gradually moving in.

 

Ever since Bucky’s made up his mind to own up to being Winter Soldier and all the baggage that comes with it, that means that Tony gets more time to hang out with Steve. The first few times Steve had shown up at the Tower when Bucky was meeting with his lawyer, Tony had assumed that Steve had made a mistake. But he finds out pretty quickly that Steve had come over to hang out.

 

Tony had side eyed him. “How’d you even know I’d be here? I mean. You couldn’t have known.”

 

“Bucky told me you’ve been working from home this month. Something about Ms. Potts having banned you because you made too many R&D scientists cry?”

 

Tony scowls because that’s not that happened _at all_!

 

So his point is that he and Steve hang out a lot. They talk and Tony learns a lot. The most important thing he learns, far too late, is that ever since SHIELD went down, Steve hasn’t had a place to live. At first, he’d stayed with his friend, Sam Wilson in Washington. But ever since he’s been in New York, he’s been staying at some motel.

 

Appalled, Tony had turned to Bucky to ask, “Did you know this?”

 

“I did. I’ve been trying to convince him to move in but he says he can’t.”

 

“Why can’t you?” Tony whirls around to ask the blond.

 

“Um. Because you said no that time?”

 

“Because I didn’t want you barging in without it being okay with Bucky!” Tony throws his hands up in exasperation. “I’m okay with it, Bucky’s okay with it. Come on get up. We’re gonna get your stuff and have you settled in before you can finish singing the Star Spangled Man.”

 

That’s how Steve moves into his suite. Tony’s _so glad_ he’s got a state of the art surveillance system because the _look_ on Steve’s face when he walks onto _his floor_ is priceless. He can’t believe all this space is his. He looks mildly panicked when he notices a painting in his bedroom and asks Tony if this is authentic.

 

Tony happily shrugs and says, “Probably? Pepper’s the one who picked all the paintings from my collection. I just told her to stick with landscapes and flowers.”

 

Steve looks ready to faint. Bucky’s disinterested gaze slides over the paintings and shifts over to the ancient looking radio nearby. While Bucky delightfully fiddles with the device, because Tony’s fixed it, of course he has, Steve turns to Tony and tells him he can’t accept this. Tony tells him to shut up and deal with it. Steve makes his sad face. Tony ignores him. Bucky asks how come this old radio can pick up new stations.

 

Steve complains some more, a lot more reluctant this time because he’s in the bathroom and he’s clearly a little in love. Tony sighs and drags him to the elevator to show him the others suites. Steve’s pale as a sheet of paper as he asks in a whisper, “How much did all of this cost?”

 

Tony tries to remember. Fails. Shrugs. Steve stares at him and shakes his head.

 

“How come I don’t have my own suite?” Bucky asks as they leave Clint’s floor.

 

“Do _you_ have an A on your arm?” Tony asks.

 

The next day, Bucky’s drawn the stylized Avengers A on his metal arm with a sharpie, timing the reveal right as Tony takes a sip of his morning coffee. Tony doesn’t know who’s more surprised when he snorts coffee out of his nose: himself or Bucky. Having Steve at the Tower, Tony realizes pretty fast, is great. And he’s not just saying that because Steve can cook. The man had been _appalled_ when he’d seen how much take out Tony and Bucky had been eating.

 

That’s how Steve moves in. Next, are Bruce and Natasha.

 

Tony’s in the middle of a meeting with potential AVP of Operations when Natasha texts him, telling him to send a car to the airport at 2AM, her and Bruce will be flying in from Indianapolis. Forgetting the meeting, Tony calls the unknown number and asks, “ _Indianapolis_?”

 

“Ask Bruce,” Natasha sounds annoyed to Tony’s confused. “He’s the one who picked this place to stay in.”

 

“Is he there?”

 

“Sleeping. We had a small incident a couple of hours ago. He ate and crashed.”

 

“Okay. Okay,” Tony runs a hand through his hair. “2AM. I’ll uhh... I’ll send someone.”

 

“Think subtle.”

 

Tony tries to convince Steve to go pick the pair up in his flashiest car, never mind the fact that it’s a two seater Steve! But Steve, damn the man, sensibly asks Happy to please arrange a discreet pick up for Natasha and Bruce.

 

“Party pooper,” Tony complains, tossing a pillow at Steve.

 

They stay up in wait of Natasha and Bruce, Tony and Bucky coaxing Steve into the act. He’s the one who worries the most, citing Tony’s morning meetings and Bucky’s appointment with someone at the City Council. But there’s no doubt he’s the most glad that they stayed up when the elevator opens, Natasha and Bruce step in, and they see the small welcome party.

 

“Brucie bear!” Tony walks over to grab his friend in a hug. “Welcome home, bud!” He pulls away almost as fast to stare the surprised looking man in the eye and ask, “Fucking Indianapolis? What the hell? That’s where fun goes to die!”

 

“I can’t control where I get asked to come for help,” Bruce tries to argue but Tony shushes him, literally by putting a finger to the other man’s lips.

 

“Did you thank Natasha from saving you from a life of dull misery?”

 

“Uh, Tony, maybe you should stop,” Steve frets.

 

Tony ignores him, too busy theatrically widening his eyes when Bruce mumbles past the gentle pressure against his mouth, “She’s the one who took me there.”

 

“ _Natasha_! How _could_ you?”

 

“You can blame an overreaching General for that. Someone decided it’d be a good idea to restart the Bio-Tech Enhancement Program and complete what General Ross had started.”

 

Tony stares at the red head, turns to look at Bruce, looks back at her. “Tell me you guys-”

 

He feels warm fingers pull his hand down. Tony turns back to Bruce, who is smirking, “We took care of it.”

 

“ _Thoroughly_ ,” Natasha adds with a tiny smirk.

 

Tony wants to know all the details immediately. But Steve, the party pooper, herds them towards the elevator, saying they’ve had a long trip and would properly like to sleep. They can debrief us tomorrow Tony.

 

“But they won’t be up by breakfast!” Tony complains. “And I won’t be back ‘till dinner!”

 

“We can wait till then.”

 

Tony sees Bucky exchanging a look with Natasha that could set a wet piece of paper in the middle of a rainstorm on fire. Bruce meanwhile, _does_ look one blink away from falling asleep. Grumbling, he agrees to wait. Steve squeezes his shoulder with a smile that may or may not have Tony floating to his bedroom.

 

The next night, Natasha and Bruce share the whole story. How Bruce found out about the project being restarted from Betty. How he’d asked Natasha for help. How they’d wreaked havoc in the lab and put the fear of the Avengers in the guy responsible. Natasha opts to stay in the Tower because “it makes tactical sense.” No one says anything about the fact that she’s clearly wearing Bucky’s t-shirt over her jeans. Tactical sense Tony’s toned butt.

 

Bruce quietly asks Tony if it’ll be okay for him to stay too. Tony slaps Bruce’s back and cheerfully tells him, “Only if you promise to let me take a look at your spectrometer.”

 

Bucky tilts his head, turns to Natasha, and loudly asks, “Is that a euphemism?”

 

Tony flips Bucky the bird and Bruce dryly comments, “I hope not. I’ve got a girlfriend.” Steve turns an interesting shade of red.

 

Thor shows up unexpectedly one day, hilariously stuffed in the back of a taxi with two petite women and a stout looking man Tony vaguely recognizes.

 

“It’s like a clown car, but better,” Tony muses to Steve, who is hiding his grin behind his palm, as the small group attempts to extricate themselves neatly. They all kind of fall over each other and yet miraculously, none of them fall face-front on asphalt. The brunette comes close but she’s faced by face planting straight into Thor’s back.

 

“Friends!” Thor exclaims at the sight of them, hurrying over to grab both him _and_ Steve in a hug. Tony laughs breathlessly and pats Thor’s shoulder. Steve, who’s had the unfortunate luck of having his arms pinned by his side in the hug, cannot return his affections physically.

 

But he does say, “Thor! What are you doing here?”

 

“Visiting my comrades in arms! I heard through the amazing Internet that you and several other Avengers were spotted in this fair city of New York. I decided to visit and join you in the fun. Oh, if I may introduce my friends.” Thor steps to the side, gesturing with his palm at the trio, who have straightened themselves out. “This is the fair Jane, my girlfriend. Her assistant, Darcy, and I believe you remember Dr. Selvig.”

 

Jane smiles tentatively and waves. Dr. Selvig looks uncertain of his welcome. And Darcy...

 

“Is she taking a picture?” Steve asks quietly.

 

Tony throws up a quick peace sign right before Darcy hits the button and straightens up. “It’s called a selfie. Look it up, Cap.” It’s hard not to grin when Steve pulls his phone out to do that immediately.

 

Thor looks behind them and asks, “Where are the others, Anthony?”

 

“I told you, big guy. Tony’s just fine,” Tony points up, “They’re upstairs. You wanna take the direct route or the elevator.”

 

To summarize a long day in one paragraph: Thor and friends stay for dinner. Bucky finds Darcy mildly intimidating. Jane’s a delight and Tony asks her to join their science club immediately. Darcy also teaches Steve how to take the best selfies with varying results. Go figure a man as handsome as Steve _can_ have bad angles. Selvig is a philosopher and a genius and Tony totally wants to get drunk with him. Steve frowns disapprovingly at that.

 

As soon as Thor finds out they’re staying together (His floor is totally empty because how does one decorate for an Asgardian prince? Even Pepper had been stumped by that), he wants to stay too. Tony shrugs and says why not.

 

“Just leave a sock on the doorknob when Jane’s visiting.”

 

Thor tilts his head in puzzlement, “I don’t understand.”

 

Tony stares long and hard at Thor before turning to Jane, “You’ll take care of that, yeah?”

 

With pink flushed cheeks, the woman nods.

 

Darcy raises her hand, “Could I crash here sometimes too?”

 

Tony shrugs and points with his drink over at Thor, “Ask him. You’ll be staying at his floor if you do.”

 

“My home is always open to friends. Of course you may stay, Darcy!”

 

Darcy fist pumps.

 

Last, but not least, is Clint. And his moving in story, if you ask Tony, was _the best_. Clint curses him out for that every time. Steve gently reminds Clint that even he has to admit it’s a bad idea to try and sneak into the home of the Avengers in the middle of the night without any warnings. Clint sticks his fingers in his ears and sings, “Mary had a little lamb” and pretends not to hear.

 

Bucky smirks through the whole damn thing whenever he’s around.

 

\--

 

Unlike his relationship with the other Avengers, Bucky’s relationship with Clint starts out frosty.

 

“Probably because you got him in a headlock first time you met,” Steve points out. Bucky tries to slap Steve up the head for being a smartass. Steve neatly ducks.

 

Here’s what happens.

 

It’s been almost a month since Natasha and Bruce have moved in and probably fifteen days since Thor’s completed redecorating his suite to his liking. Everything’s going well considering all the strong personalities living under one roof. There’s been no accidents, no threats of murder; everyone’s getting along. Anyways, him and Natasha had opted to have dinner at Tony’s, which has become the communal space slash hang out place. Tony’s preening as he explains how he helped.

 

Steve wryly points at the misshapen carrots in the stew and says, “His doing.”

 

Conversation flows as Tony opens a bottle of wine after dessert. Thor joins them with a DVD in hand, asking if they’d like to join him in watching “a tale of courage and bravery most true.”

 

“Who the fuck told him Cabin in the Woods was a tale of courage?” Tony hisses at no one in particular when he returns with four huge bowls of popcorn. “I should have asked what movie he wanted to watch instead of saying I’d make the popcorn. This is my own fault.”

 

Steve looks deeply confused by the end. Natasha had dozed off on Bucky’s shoulder somewhere around the mermaids. Thor is stroking his beard and musing, “I can see why Darcy recommended this.” And Tony snuffles in response, cheek squished against Steve’s shoulder as he sleeps.

 

Thor carefully puts the disc back into its box before he turns to Bucky and Steve. “I will make sure the room is clean. If you could please help our sleeping friends to their bed, I would appreciate that.”

 

Bucky’s got no problem with that. He’s been spending more nights in Natasha’s bed anyways. Purely platonic, he’d like to point out! They’re taking it slow. Meanwhile Steve...He slides a sly look over at his friend to see his reaction to Thor’s request. Steve blinks out of whatever stupor he’s in and seems to remember he’s got Tony using him as a pillow and blushes. Bucky bites his smirk down and turns to gently pick Natasha up.

 

There’s the barest change in her breathing that tells him she’s woken up. He whispers softly to her in Russian, “It’s me.”

 

She exhales, slipping her arms around his neck and murmuring back, “Movie over?”

 

“Mmhmm.”

 

Satisfied, she presses her face into his shoulder and goes back to feigning sleep. Bucky can’t help but press a kiss to her forehead. Looking up, he sees Steve carefully, carefully slipping his hands under Tony’s legs and back before he lifts him up. Tony’s head rests against Steve’s shoulder, chest rising and falling steadily. The way Steve looks at Tony, the way he moves-- Bucky can’t remember the last time he’s seen Steve looking at someone else like they’re the center of his world. He wonders if Tony will look over this footage after he wakes up. What will he feel seeing his past self being looked so lovingly at by Steve?

 

Bucky resolves to have a conversation with Steve about this one day soon. For now, he bids his friends good night and heads to Natasha’s floor. They change their clothes, brush their teeth, and climb into bed. They kiss a little, Bucky smiling when he feels her fingers tip-toeing under his tank and up his chest. Her hand stays pressed against the center of his chest when she falls asleep for real. Bucky falls asleep muzzily thinking he should blow out a small puff of air through his lips to dislodge the strands of Natasha’s hair that’re clinging to his lips.

 

He wakes up with a snap several hours later.

 

Bucky’s eyes sweep over the dark in search for whatever has woken up him. They dart up to the ceiling; there’s a soft shuffling noise from somewhere overhead. Natasha’s curled up on her side of the bed, her back to Bucky. He quietly slips out of the bed, head tilted up. Staring at the ceiling, Bucky wonders if it’s rats. He immediately shakes the guess away. It can’t be. It doesn’t sound like a small body anyways. In fact, the snuffling noise sounds familiar. Almost like...

 

A chill runs through his body as he wonders who’d be stupid enough to try and break into _Natasha’s room_ , much less Avengers Tower, through the fucking vents. Bucky grabs his phone and whispers, “JARVIS. Can you show me the schematics of Natasha’s room? The vents. Silently.”

 

The plans load up on his cell phone’s screen. JARVIS thoughtfully adds a small blue dot showing where Bucky’s standing. And a second blue dot that’s crossing from the bedroom and into the living room. Fuck. Bucky shoots a worried glance over at Natasha, wondering if he ought to wake her. But what if this is someone after Natasha? Bucky would like to stop them before they get to her.

 

_I should see who it is first._

 

He walks silently towards the bedroom room, opening it just enough to peek through. He can make out the sofas, the coffee table, and a figure that drops quietly in the corner, near the potted plant Thor had gifted her as a housewarming gift. Bucky can’t make out any details. He doesn’t care to either. Someone’s snuck past Tony’s defense system into _Natasha’s_ apartment. They’re going to pay. Bucky holds his breath and waits. The intruder makes a slow circuit around the living room. They bump into something and curse lowly. It’s a man.

 

When the man turns towards the kitchen, ambling almost, Bucky slips out of the bedroom. He’s amazed at the gall of this guy when he opens the fridge and sticks his head in, muttering, “Who needs this much vodka?”

 

He couldn’t ask for a better chance than this. Bucky slips behind the guy. He’s debating on whether to grab him in a headlock or to kick him forward when the man straightens up, one arm resting on the open fridge door. Between one breath and the next, Bucky grabs the man in a tight headlock, meant to incapacitate as roughly as possible. The man jerks back, fridge door closing slowly as warm hands coming up to wrap around Bucky’s metal arm with a strangled noise.

 

He struggles mightily, almost squirming free when he manages to get one foot against the fridge and tries to flip over behind Bucky. He’s a slippery guy but unfortunately for him, Bucky’s better. That doesn’t mean this guy doesn’t make it difficult for Bucky. Bucky curses when he’s pushed back into a wall, making the picture hanging up there rattle ominously but his hold stays tight. He curses again when a hard stomp lands on his bare foot. His hold finally breaks. Bucky feels the punch coming and ducks. The man yells angrily as his fist meets nothing but wall. Bucky turns and tries a different hold, capturing the intruders head and arm between both of his arms.

 

“Give up?” he taunts.

 

The man grunts, “Fuck you.”

 

“You’re not my type.”

 

Light floods the apartment in a blink, making Bucky flinch.

 

“What the hell’s going on?” Natasha asks from the doorway. Right as Bucky turns to look at her, Natasha’s annoyed expression shifts into surprised concern. “ _Clint_?”

 

Clint? Bucky looks down at the blond guy he’s holding down and asks, “You know him?”

 

“A little help,” the man rasps, weakly waving his free hand at Natasha.

 

“James, let him go! I know him. That’s Hawkeye.”

 

Hawk- _oh_. Bucky immediately lets the man go, sheepishly hanging back as the man staggers forward, a hand against his throat as he wheezes, “Were you trying to kill me? Fuck! Who the fuck is this guy, Nat?”

 

Natasha rushes forward towards Clint, pushing his hand out of the way to check his throat for bruises. Bucky quietly moves to grab a glass and fill it with water.

 

“Can’t say I blame him,” Natasha’s saying. “What the hell were you thinking sneaking in like this?”

 

“I thought I’d surprise you. I was gonna hide in your living room and see how long it took for you to figure out I was here.”

 

Bucky silently passes Natasha the water. Sighing, Natasha raises the water glass up to Clint’s mouth, glaring him into submission until he drinks. He drains half the glass before waving at her to stop. Panting, Clint glares at him and asks again, with a lot more venom in his hoarse voice, “And who the fuck is he?”

 

“Clint, meet James Barnes. Also known as Bucky Barnes. Formerly known as the Winter Soldier.”

 

With an apologetic smile, he gestures at Clint’s neck. “Sorry about that. I thought you might have been a bad guy.”

 

“What kind of a moron would try to sneak into this place _through the vents_?”

 

Natasha, dryly, as dry as a bone in a desert, says, “You.”

 

Ignoring her, Clint instead asks, “What’s he doing here anyways? Last I heard he was on the run.”

 

“He’s staying here.”

 

“Here, at the Tower?”

 

“Yes. And here with me.”

 

Clint stares at her. Stares at him. Angrily pinches the bridge of his nose, nostrils flaring as he breathes deeply and exhales. Bucky exchanges a worried look with Natasha, gesturing towards the door, silently asking if he should leave. Natasha looks between the men before nodding. Bucky takes two steps towards the door before stopping. He gestures over at Clint, making a face as he wonders if he ought to apologize now or wait for the guy to cool down. Natasha tilts her head in obvious puzzelment. Bucky figures he may as well apologize now because... well. He’s sorry.

 

“Uh, Hawkeye?” The man opens his eyes and glares at him. Undeterred, Bucky continues, “Sorry about the misunderstanding. I uh... I’m just sorry.”

 

For a long moment, fury burns in the blonde’s eyes. Natasha gently touches his arm. Clint sharply turns to look at her and whatever he sees in her eyes, it drains him of his anger. He exhales shortly before shrugging tightly. “Whatever. It’s okay.”

 

Bucky slips back to the bedroom, leaving the pair alone to talk. He lies in bed, facing Natasha’s side as he waits for her to come back. It occurs to him suddenly that JARVIS hadn’t warned him about Hawkeye. Rolling over, Bucky asks, “JARVIS?”

 

“Yes, sir?” the AI replies.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me that it was Hawkeye in the vents?”

 

“You didn’t ask, Sir.”

 

Bucky stares into the dark, wondering if this is what it feels like to have a pie slapped in your face.

 

\--

 

Tony’s taken to waking up a little earlier than usual because that affords him a little more private time with Steve in the morning. It’d taken some getting used to, the fact that his floor has turned into the unofficial, unspoken hang-out space slash common area. His kitchen is the one where they most often meet for group breakfasts. The island is where they have their dinners. His living room where they all watch movies together. It’s nice. Nicer still however, is that Steve’s always there in the morning. _That_ has also taken some getting used to at first. A week, for anyone who is curious. Now though, Tony’s used to it. He, God help him, looks forward to the early mornings.

 

He loves sitting there, nursing his coffee as he watches Steve putter around the kitchen. It makes him think all kinds of mushy thoughts he shouldn’t be entertaining. But it’s that quiet time in the morning when anything seems possible. So Tony lets himself dream. The morning after Clint’s midnight arrival, Tony’s watching Steve fry up sausages and is daydreaming about kissing that smile off the blond’s lips when Bruce walks in, looking extra frumpy and dazed.

 

Bruce sits down next to him, and asks, “Did you know Clint came in last night?”

 

In the middle of sipping his coffee, Tony lightly shakes his head. JARVIS makes a morning report that he delivers to Tony as he’s getting ready. He’s sure he’d have found that out sooner or later. The sausages spit and fry in their pan. Their tantalizing smell is making Tony’s mouth water. Steve slides them into a plate before he plucks three eggs up from a nearby bowl. He cracks them and pours them into the frying pan.

 

“I didn’t know he was coming in. Did you know, Tony?”

 

Tony shakes his head. “He didn’t say anything to me. Maybe Natasha?”

 

He glances at the other two men but they both shake their heads.

 

“She didn’t tell me,” Steve says, keeping a sharp eye on the frying eggs.

 

“Natasha didn’t know,” the woman says as she walks in, hair up in a short ponytail. On her heels, are two very contrite looking men.

 

Tony’s puzzled expression turns to alarm when he sees the bruises around Clint’s neck. Bruce is a step ahead of him, sleepy expression melting into concern. “What the hell happened to you?”

 

Clint shoots a dark look over at Bucky, who guiltily slinks over next to Steve. The blond man's voice is rough as sandpaper when he says, “I wanted to surprise Nat but this guy over here thought I was an intruder and tried to take me down.”

 

The sound of frying eggs hangs in the kitchen for a long second before Steve cautiously asks, “I’m guessing you didn’t just show up at her door in the middle of the night?”

 

“He thought it’d be a good idea to come in through the vents,” Natasha answers, pushing Clint into an empty chair before she moves for the fridge.

 

Three sets of eyebrows rise up in tandem. Tony blinks at Clint, a little impressed and a little worried by how little common sense he’s got. Bruce is shaking his head as he drinks his coffee. Steve has a far away look in his eyes as he mumbles to himself, “The vents are big enough for a person to crawl in through? That can’t be good for security.”

 

“I’ve got security measures in place," Tony points out. "I’m guessing JARVIS let him in. Isn’t that right?”

 

“Indeed, Sir. Mr. Barton explicitly said I wasn’t to announce his presence because he wanted to surprise Ms. Romanoff.”

 

 _Everyone_ looks at Clint with varying expressions.

 

There’s the faintest pink blush stretched across his nose as he crosses his arms and grumbles, “This is the last time I try to do something nice for a friend.”

 

\--

 

When Clint finally explains he was going to sleep on Natasha’s sofa till morning, Tony asks why didn’t he just sleep in his suite.

 

Clint stares at Tony. Tony stares back at Clint.

 

“I’ve got my own suite?” Clint asks slowly.

 

Tony holds his hands out in pure exasperation. “You asked JARVIS which vents would get you to Nat’s living room but you didn’t stop to ask him where you could stash your stuff?”

 

“I thought I’d stay with her!” Clint makes a rude gestures back.

 

And now all the Avengers are living at the Avengers Tower. Thor is delighted to learn they’re all together again and wants them to go to celebrate. Steve gently points out it’s 8AM. Thor smiles and blinks back, asking, “Yes. And?”

 

“Gotta admire his attitude,” Tony laughs as he slips his jacket on. “How about we go out tonight? Show of hands?”

 

Thor’s hand goes up first, followed by Clint, who cheers, “Bar crawl!”

 

In the corner he’s quietly trying to hide in, Natasha nudges his ribs and asks, “Do you feel up for it?”

 

“I’m game if you’re game,” Bucky returns.

 

Natasha peers at him before nodding. “We’re in too.”

 

“Steve? Bruce?” he turns hopefully to them. “What’d’ya say?”

 

Bruce smiles, “What the hell. Why not? I can’t remember the last time I went out for a drink.” His smile fades before he worriedly continues, “Just make sure I don’t drink any tequila.”

 

“Does that bring out the Hulk?” Thor asks in concern.

 

“No. Worse,” Bruce grimaces. “I start dancing and it gives me a killer hangover.”

 

Bucky catches the wicked gleam in Tony’s eye. Thankfully, Steve does too because he takes gentle hold of Tony’s wrist and mouths, “No.” at him.

 

Tony pouts and murmurs back, “You’re no fun.”

 

Jesus. The way these two get on. They forget there’s other people in the room. He glances at Natasha, wondering if she’s seeing what he’s seeing. She is and she seems quietly pleased. Clint’s the only other person who catches Steve and Tony’s little interaction. He looks as confused as can be and mumbles, “What?” to no one at particular.

 

They leave the Tower somewhere around 6, pouring themselves into three of Tony’s cars and heading first to a bar that serves food. They eat their fill in burgers, nachos, and wings, before moving onto the drinks. Bucky hangs back, not hiding but not keen on drawing attention to himself on the off chance someone recognizes him.

 

In pure New York fashion however, no one pays them mind. Not at the first bar or at the second. It’s close to 9 when Thor suggests going to the next location. He wants to drink some more and Clint wants to dance. Bucky however, begs leave. He’s got an early meeting with his lawyer in the morning and he’d like to have a good night’s sleep to deal with that bull.

 

Thor slaps his back so hard Bucky starts coughing. “I hope you will join us again, friend of Steve! I look forward to holding a proper drinking contest with you and the good Captain.”

 

Steve looks mildly distressed when he reminds Thor, “I can’t get drunk, remember?”

 

“Not on this Midgard liquid,” Thor lazily waves his nearly empty bottle of beer at the man. “I shall bring the finest mead available on Asgard. We shall see who is truly the strongest amongst us.”

 

Natasha touches the inside of his elbow, snapping his attention to her in a heartbeat. “Everything alright?”

 

Grateful for her concern, Bucky squeezes her hand. “Yeah. I’m okay. It’ll take me an hour getting back. And I’ve got some paperwork to read too. I might be up by the time you get back.”

 

She shakes her head however. “No. You should sleep. I don’t want you going into that meeting with a headache or worse.”

 

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky murmurs, closing the distance between them to steal a quick kiss from her smiling lips. “I’ll see you at home.”

 

After saying his goodbyes, Bucky makes his slow way back to the Tower. He takes a shower, and sits down to read the papers his lawyer has left for him. His case is progressing well enough. They’ve finalized a few things and are taking steps to make Bucky’s coming out as smooth as possible. Bucky’s going to say he remanded himself into the Avengers custody and would prefer to stay there because “they’re the only one most capable of restraining me if the need arises.”

 

They’ve also been trying to find people on the Hill who will support them. Because there’s good odds there’s going to be a hearing. A public one if he’s really unlucky. He’s going to need some people on his side. So, they’ve been putting out feelers. Their legal team has said that they’ve found at least three Senators who are sympathetic to Bucky’s cause and promise to help as much as they can. In tomorrow’s meeting, his lawyer has asked Tony to join them to answer some questions about Bucky’s arm, his deprogramming, therapy, and the contingency plans in place to keep Bucky subdued. They’ll get their stories straight and move on to the next step, whatever that is.

 

He wakes up the next morning, goes on his run, has breakfast with Natasha, cleans the table, and leaves the suite with the red-head. As the elevator dings before slowing to a halt, Natasha wishes him good luck on his meeting.

 

“If I’m done by lunch, do you want to go out?” Bucky asks hopefully, foot pressed against the closed elevator door to stop it from closing.

 

Natasha smiles, “I’ll let you know.”

 

Bucky’s happily wondering where he’d like to go out to lunch when Pepper walks into the conference room, a thick file tucked under her arm. He’s on his feet before he realizes it, smiling at the redhead, “Pepper. What are you doing here?”

 

“Tony’s India meeting is running over. He said he’s going to be _at least_ an hour late. Lucky for him I knew this would happen.” Pepper slips into the seat Bucky holds out for her. “Thank you. Given SI’s involvement with the Avengers, Tony’s been sending me reports about some of the things that were on the agenda today. I’m going to get the ball rolling until he comes.”

 

“Sounds good to me.” Bucky’s about to ask her what is she going to tell the lawyer when he sees the folded up tabloid sticking out the corner of the folder. “I didn’t think you read those.”

 

Pepper follows his glance and grimaces. “I don’t. But there’s an article in here I meant to show Tony.”

 

“Nothing bad I hope.”

 

“Depends on your definition of the term.”

 

Curiosity sufficiently tickled, Bucky asks, “Could I?”

 

“Knock yourself out. I’m surprised you don’t know this already. I imagine one of you must have found out about it and teased them over it.”

 

Beyond curious, Bucky flips the folded paper open and glances over the headlines. It’s a celebrity gossip tabloid. The main story is “breaking news” about some person cheating on their partner with someone else and “exclusive text messages” that prove said cheating. The smaller articles are about an actor walking around town with some unknown lady without his wedding ring. Another “exclusive” of some kind. And near the bottom...

 

Bucky stares at the picture of Tony and Steve sitting in a diner booth, grinning at each other, and reads the text under it, “Love in the air? Iron Man and Captain America exclusive pictures!”

 

Looking over at Pepper, who has the most long suffering look on her face, Bucky asks, “What the hell?”

 

“That’s what I said.”

 

He flips through the tabloid in search of page five that’s got more pictures of Steve and Tony sharing a meal. He reads the little text next to the pictures for an explanation. The pictures were taken late last night. Steve and Tony had wandered into a diner after midnight and shared a meal together. Seems incongruous enough in text but the pictures... they tell a different story.

 

In one, they’re sitting side by side in a booth, pouring over a menu together. In the next, Tony’s taking a long happy sip of the milkshake Steve’s holding out for him. In another, Steve’s taking a bite out of the sandwich Tony’s holding up. There’s more grainy pictures where they’re talking, Tony’s arm clung around the back of the booth behind Steve’s shoulders while Steve’s whole body is turned towards the dark haired man, intently listening to whatever Tony’s saying. In another, taking from a different angle, they’re both looking up at their server, but there’s no ignoring the way Steve’s hand rests high on Tony’s thigh.

 

“What. the. Hell.” Bucky says again, slower and with greater emphasis.

 

“You’re living with Tony. And Steve’s your best friend. Have either of them said anything about this?”

 

“I don’t even know what “this” is,” Bucky slides the tabloid paper back over at Pepper.

 

With a small frown, Pepper asks, “So they’re not dating?”

 

“Not that they’ve said. I don’t think they are either. I mean. I just thought that they were friends.” He hesitates briefly before admitting, “I... kinda suspected there might be _something_ going on there. Some attraction but... nothing more than that.” Bucky glances over at the folder with the tabloid and mutters, “Now I’m not so sure anymore.”

 

\--

 

“Platypus!” Tony declares happily as he accepts his best friends call. “How you doing? What’s going on?”

 

His friend is in his civvies, a towel hanging around his neck. Fresh out of the shower probably. He leans forward towards the camera with a smile. “Doing good. I flew in today and thought I’d call and see how you’re doing. Got time to swing by Washington tomorrow or the day after?”

 

“JARVIS, my schedule.”

 

The AI helpfully brings up Tony’s schedule for the next two days. Tony scrolls through it with a deep frown. “What are you thinking? Lunch or dinner?”

 

“Dinner would be easier. I promised some friends I might meet up for lunch but I’ve got some more meetings before that so, it’s not a sure shot. I know i’ll be free by dinner though.”

 

With a regretful look at the screen, Tony says, “Sorry, Boo. I’ve got things I can’t get out of.”

 

“I don’t suppose one of them is a date with Captain America?”

 

No matter what Rhodey would claim later, Tony did _not_ choke on his own spit in surprise. He’d just... been taken aback by the question, that’s all. “ _What_?”

 

“Because I read some pretty interesting articles...”

 

“Honey Bear,” Tony groans, “You know better than to pay attention to the tabloids. They’ve been saying I’ve been hiding a secret love child for years! And that’s not even the wildest thing they’ve said. Remember that shit they said about us when we were at-”

 

“And then there’s the pictures TMZ and Oh No They Didn’t! put up where you’ve got your hands on Steve’s butt.”

 

Spluttering, Tony exclaims, “I _didn’t_ have my hands on Steve’s butt!”

 

“I dunno, it looked like you did.”

 

“Are you gonna believe a picture some random person took or your _best friend_ who lived through it?” Tony asks in annoyance.

 

“Let me see,” Rhodey taps a finger against his lips in mock consideration. “Are we talking about the same best friend who didn’t tell me he’d built a super suit for himself until I came this close to blasting him out of the sky?”

 

“Those were-”

 

“The same best friend who didn’t tell me he was _dying_ and kept acting like nothing was wrong for ages?” Rhodey speaks over him, blinking innocently at Tony. “I think I’d believe the pictures.”

 

“You’re getting coal for Christmas,” Tony grumbles. “A big fat lump of coal and not the fancy upgrades I’ve been working on for War Machine.”

 

With the smuggest of grins, Rhodey teases. “I’ll just go to Hammer then.”

 

Tony hisses, “You... You!” When Rhodey’s grin widens, Tony throws his hands up. “ _Fine_! You’re a jackass!”

 

“It’s the basis of our friendship,” Rhodey answers solemnly. “But seriously, Tones. What’s going on with you and Steve? The rumors true?”

 

“That we’re dating? Categorically _false_.” Tony wishes they were true. But... “The man’s straight as an arrow.”

 

“You’re mostly straight too though, right? What’s that thing you said? 80:20 split for girls and guys? But that aside,” Rhodey asks, “didn’t you say you hated the guy? I have crystal clear memories of you ranting about how much you hated Captain America when we were freshmen.”

 

“I’m entitled to changing my mind.” Tony shrugs out of his dressing robe, carefully hanging it off the back of his chair before he turns back to Rhodey. Getting comfortable, Tony puts his feet up on the ottoman and leans back with a sigh. “He’s not what I expected once I got to know him. He’s exactly the guy Howard used to rave about but he’s more than that too. He’s... he’s a good man.”

 

Humming, Rhodey leans forward on his elbows. “A man you’ve got a crush on.”

 

“A man _you’ve_ got a crush on,” Tony retorts because that’s true, not because it’s childish.

 

“I wasn’t the one who let someone take a picture of me with my hand on his ass though, man. So...”

 

Letting his head fall back so that he’s staring up at the ceiling, Tony sighs. “My hand wasn’t _on_ his ass. It was _near_ his ass.”

 

“That’s not better. In fact, I’d say that’s worse.”

 

“ _How_?”

 

“Because that implies intent to touch his ass.”

 

Tony drags his hand down his face and whines, “But I wasn’t _gonna_ touch his ass! My hand just happened to be in that general area!”

 

“Again, suspicious. What was your hand doing in that general area? I’m thinking your subconscious want-”

 

Abruptly sitting up, Tony points a finger at the hovering screen showing Rhodey’s shit eating grin and tells his best friend, “You can’t make that joke again! It’s been more than ten years! There was a ten year limit on that.”

 

Raising his hands with a warm chuckle, Rhodey says, “Fine, fine. The point stands though. It’s pretty suspect. Either you were touching his butt or you wanted to touch his butt. And honestly, what’s wrong in admitting its the second to me? This a no judgement zone.”

 

“Hand to God,” Tony raises his hand for emphasis, “I honestly wasn’t thinking about touching Steve’s butt.”

 

Because Rhodey is his best friend and knows him better than anyone, including Pepper, he crosses his arms and waits expectantly.

 

Tony caves and mumbles, “I was gonna slap his butt but thought better of it.”

 

Slapping the table, Rhodey points at him and yells, “ _I knew it_! You wanted to touch his ass!”

 

“Have you _seen_ the man? Nuns would wanna touch his ass! I’m only human!” Tony argues defensively, sulking just a little as he sits back with his arms crossed over his chest. “So I’m attracted to the man. So _what_? It’s not ones business but mine.”

 

“And his. It takes two to, you know.” Rhodey suggestively raises his eyebrows.

 

“Straight as an arrow, remember?”

 

“I dunno.” Rhodey leans out of the screen to grab his phone. He taps at it several times before he pulls up a picture and shows it to Tony. “I’m as straight as they come and the way Steve’s looking at you here? _Not_ straight. It’s gay. It might not be Freddie Mercury levels of flamboyant but...”

 

JARVIS helpfully pulls up a high-res copy of the picture and displays it in a separate window for Tony to see. Surprisingly, It’s not a picture from the club. It’s from before. When Steve had dragged him out to get groceries. Someone had taken this picture from the back as they were leaving the store. They were holding a brown bag each, a french loaf sticking out Steve’s bag. Tony chews on his bottom lip before double tapping the screen to zoom in on their faces. He remembers he’d been texting someone while walking out. Which is why he’d missed the way Steve had been looking at him as he’d prattled away about... God. What had they been talking about then? He can’t remember. But looking at Steve? That fond little smile on his face and the softness of his expression? How long has Steve been looking at him like that? How many of these looks has Tony missed? God. If he’d ever even caught a _glance_ of that look... He’d have... done something _incredibly_ stupid. Like kiss Steve right there and then.

 

“Damn,” Rhodey breathes out. Jerking out of his stupor, Tony blinks at the screen where Rhodey’s staring at him. “You’ve got it _bad_ , Tones.”

 

Dragging his hand down his face, Tony helplessly asks, “Tell me what to do, Rhodey.”

 

“You might want to do something about your face.”

 

Tony touches his cheek in concern. Rhodey’s not gonna tell him to shave his beard of is he? Because that’s as close to non-negotiable as it gets. “What about my face?”

 

“You’ve get the same dopey look on your face when you’re looking at Steve. You might wanna get that checked out.”

 

Annoyed, Tony slaps his hand down on his thigh. “I’m hanging up on you.”

 

\--

 

“Tomorrow’s the big day,” Steve says quietly. Next to him, Bucky takes a quiet swing of his beer. It’s him and Steve on the balcony outside Steve’s living room. It’s the day before the Avengers are going to tell the world that Bucky Barnes aka the Winter Soldier has been in their custody for several months now and is part of a rehabilitation program to break the HYDRA programming he was under. And he wants to make amends for his actions, whatever they may be.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You ready?”

 

Bucky leans back against the railing, forearms resting lazy against the cold metal. He nods slowly. “Yeah. Whatever happens, I’m ready.” He smiles up at the stars.

 

Steve silently opens a fresh bottle and hands it over. Bucky glances at him as he accepts the bottle. “What about you?”

 

“I’ll manage.” Steve’s smile is small but warm. He gently presses his shoulder against Bucky’s. “It’s not us against the world anymore.”

 

Bucky hums in agreement, sipping at his beer. “We’ve got a team now.”

 

“Friends,” Steve gently corrects.

 

He raises his glass to Steve. Steve twists the cap open of a new bottle and knocks it against Bucky’s bottle with a soft tap.

 

Somewhere down on the streets, someone slams their hand on the horn for a good ten seconds. Somewhere else, more in the distance, a police siren fades into the noises of the city. The sounds have changed since they were kids but the city is alive in the same way. Perhaps more.

 

“I didn’t think I’d be here after I woke up.” Steve turns towards him, leaning on his side against the railing. Bucky keeps staring up. He can make out the edge of Tony’s landing pad. “I’d hoped Tony would be able to help me. But I never thought I could have all of this. You... Tony... Natasha. Everyone else. It feels like a dream some nights.”

 

“I know that feeling.”

 

Bucky finishes his beer and asks, “Was that the last one?”

 

“Yeah. Want more?” Steve asks even as he hands his half-finished bottle over to Bucky.

 

Accepting Steve’s bottle, Bucky takes a sip and sighs. “I miss the days when alcohol used to have an effect on me. At least this tastes better than the stuff we used to have.”

 

Steve collects the empty bottles and nods towards the inside. Bucky nods before polishing off his bottle. Once inside, Steve asks, “Isn’t Natasha waiting up for you?”

 

“No. I told her not to.” Bucky pushes his sleeves up to his elbows. He’d hoped all that alcohol would have _some_ effect but nope. He’s still nervous as hell. Inhaling slowly, Bucky admits, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep tonight.”

 

“You want to watch a movie or something?”

 

“I’m too wound up,” Bucky shakes his head. He smiles wanly at his best friend. “You don’t have to stay up. I’ll just. I’ll figure something out to do. You should sleep.”

 

Steve shakes his head. There’s the familiar stubborn jut to his jaw that’s been the cause of so much trouble in their lives. It soothes the butterflies in his stomach just a little. “It’s no problem. I’ll stay up.”

 

“Can’t talk you out of it, can I?”

 

“Nope. Come on, let’s sit on the couch.”

 

Bucky’s just sat down when JARVIS says, “Pardon me, Captain, Sergeant. The Avengers have gathered in Sir’s living room to watch movies to pass the night away. They asked me to extend you an invitation in case you were awake.”

 

Warmth blooms in his chest. With a small chuckle, Bucky jokes, “I guess insomnia is contagious tonight.”

 

“Indeed. Shall I tell them you’ll be joining them?”

 

Bucky glances at Steve, who shrugs. “Up to you.”

 

Between his stomach eating itself in anxiety and sitting with the other Avengers who are choosing to stay up as a quiet show of solidarity with him? It’s a no-brainer.

 

“Tell them we’re coming up, JARVIS.”

 

“In five minutes!” Steve hurriedly corrects Bucky. When Bucky shoots him a puzzled look, Steve’s ears turn pink at the tips. “I gotta change.”

 

With a confused gesture at his best friend’s sweater and khakis, Bucky asks, “What the hell’s wrong with what you’re wearing right now?”

 

Steve’s blush spreads across his face. He mumbles something and jogs into his bedroom. Unfortunately for him, he’s not the only stubborn idiot in this friendship. Bucky follows him into the bedroom, repeating his question, “What’s wrong with those pants?” when he sees Steve unbuckling his belt.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“You’re still taking them off though. So _something’s_ wrong with them.” Bucky stops to think about this for a moment. “Did Clint try to fool you again? Did he tell you he’s allergic to khaki or something?”

 

“No,” Steve tosses the pants to the side and opens his closet.

 

Bucky’s trying to figure out what other reason Steve could have to change his khaki’s for jeans. He wonders and wonders and wonders. It isn’t until Steve turns while buttoning his jeans up and that another option comes to Bucky’s mind.

 

He smirks, leering a little at how the jeans show off Steve’s thighs and ass. “Who do you want to show off for, pal?”

 

Steve’s blush is going from pink to a ruddy red. That Irish skin of his gives him away so easily. His friend finishes pulling his sweater down and grumbles, “ _No one_.”

 

With his very best shit eating grin, Bucky asks, “So you decided to change out of your comfortable slacks into skinny jeans for no damn reason?”

 

Steve glares at him. Bucky grins back, waiting for him to break. It takes longer than he anticipated but Steve _does_ break. He runs a hand through his hair before nervously peeking into a mirror to make sure he hasn’t made a mess. Shooting Bucky a wounded look, Steve complains, “You’re actin’ like you already know so why not just come out and say it.”

 

“You wanna look good for Tony.” Bucky sing-songs, “You wanna impress him. You want him to notice you. You wanna look nice for the guy you’re crushin’ on.” He darts away when Steve lunges at him, laughing as he does so. “Aw come on. There’s no shame in wantin’ to look good for the person you like!”

 

“You don’t have any issues with it? With me liking a guy?” Steve asks. There’s the barest gleam of fear in his eyes. Like this is the thing that’s going to have Bucky walk away from him. Which is stupid. Because there’s nothing that could make him stop being friends with Steve.

 

“Not really,” Bucky shakes his head. “Who you like doesn’t change who you are as a person.”

 

“And that it’s Tony? You don’t think we’re... too different?”

 

“Tony’s a good guy. You guys are good on and off the field. I think that counts more than anything else, differences be damned. He’d be lucky to have a guy like you as his...guy.”

 

With a wobbly smile, Steve walks forward to grab him in a tight hug. Bucky slaps his back a few times before pulling away. “Just be good to each other. You’ve got both enough baggage to sink the Titanic. You’ve gotta be patient.”

 

“That feels a little insulting,” Steve scowls. “The Titanic?”

 

“Yep.”

 

Steve makes a face but doesn’t say anything else. Rather, he looks down at his sweater before looking up at Bucky. “Should I change this too?”

 

“Into what? A tighter shirt?” Bucky asks a touch sarcastically because is Steve’s whole strategy to just dangle himself in front of Tony like he’s ripe fruit ready to be plucked off a tree? That’s a disservice. Steve needs to show off more of his brains than his body. 

 

When Steve contemplatively stares at his closet, Bucky shoves his friend towards the door. “The sweaters fine, you moron.”

 

\--

 

“Thank you for coming to this press conference. We’re going to be releasing a prepared statement, we’ll be taking five questions at the end.” Steve begins once they’ve sat down.

 

Camera flashes twinkle like a field of stars. They’re all in their uniforms because this is official Avengers business. Tony slides a disaffected gaze over the crowd, trying to get a feel for the mood. Everyone’s hanging off Steve’s every word. He’s a natural leader. A lot of people have had their say in the preparation of the press statement. Bucky, of course. His lawyer. Pepper, several other SI lawyers to make sure the company won’t be implicated in any way, Steve, and even someone from SHIELD looked it over. But the person who’s had the biggest hand in this, has been the Avengers own PR person. She’s standing right off stage, watching Steve talk.

 

Tony wishes he’d kept his helmet on. Then he’d be able to quietly pull up the news feeds and see what’s the initial reactions are. Instead, he’s sitting here smiling at a crowd of sharks who’re looking ready to jump to their feet as soon as Steve’s done.

 

“Bucky Barnes has been going through a comprehensive rehabilitation program to break the brainwashing he was subjected through under HYDRA. We can’t go into details of the brainwashing programming just yet but he has broken through the programming. He is in no danger of reverting back to the Winter Soldier.”

 

Tony catches a few disbelieving look in the crowd. Christine Everhart, bless her skeptical soul, raises a slow eyebrow that speaks volumes. Steve speaks on, touching on Tony’s role in Bucky’s recovery, therapy, the importance of helping veterans and not forgetting them once they’ve returned home from war. It’s a _struggle_ not to grin at that part because that? That had been Steve’s clever suggestion. It’s a smart move that’s sure to tug the right heart strings and sway more sympathy for Bucky’s cause.

 

When Steve opens the floor to questions, it’s fucking pandemonium. It’s Tony’s turn to step up to the mic, metaphorically. He lets all the reporters yell for their attention for another few seconds before he nods at the blond in the third row.

 

“Johnny.”

 

“Will Sergeant Bucky Barnes be tried and held accountable for his crimes?”

 

“Sergeant Barnes has came forward with the specific aim of wanting to make amends for his actions. So yes, he’s ready for whatever litigation that’ll come his way. Mickey.”

 

She’s got her hair tied up in her usual ponytail and a pencil tucked in it. “What guarantee is there that you’ve erased all of HYDRA’s programming? How do we know you’ve reversed everything?”

 

“We found HYDRA’s files on their bastard variation of the super serum project and worked our way backwards. On top of that, additional measures have been taken to make sure Bucky Barnes’ will won’t be compromised again.”

 

Tony scans the room, seeing several familiar faces waving their hands in the air to grab his attention. But who would ask a good question...Maybe he should give someone new a chance. Tony points at the hipster looking kid near the end. “You. The kid.”

 

The kid looks like Christmas came early and he wasn’t prepared for it. “W-will we hear from Mr. Barnes himself about his experiences under HYDRA and ho-how the Avengers helped in his recovery?”

 

“I expect there’ll be a hearing or two where he’ll share all the gory little details your little heart’s desire. Two more questions.”

 

Next to him, Thor leans over to quietly murmur, “The girl in yellow. She seems more determined than the others.”

 

The girl in yellow? Who’s... ah. Jenny. “Jenny, what’ve you got?”

 

“What was your role in Bucky Barnes’ recovery, Mr. Stark? You may have multiple degrees but last we checked, none of them was in psychology.”

 

“I’m glad you asked, Jenny. You’re right, I’m no expert in psychology but there’s a product I’ve had in the works for a while now whose entire purpose was to help people deal with their traumatic memories. I’m planning to give a demonstration of the product once some minor kinks have been worked out but that’s something we used with the good Sergeant. Also, I’ve worked closely with several of the most notable minds in the field to make the recovery program for Sergeant Barnes. Their names will be included in the written statement we’ll be sharing.”

 

Who should the last question go to. Like that’s even a debate. Tony likes saving the best for last. “Christine,” he nods at the woman in the front row.

 

“Why did it take the Avengers so long to come forward with the news that Bucky Barnes has put himself in their custody? Isn’t it standard agency protocol to share news of criminal arrests as soon as they happen?”

 

Oh, she’d _almost_ had them there but then she had to go and add that second question.

 

Tony lets his grin go a little sharp at the edges. “Actually, Christine, it’s not. There’s plenty of mitigating circumstances under which agencies can not share news of arrests. Bucky Barnes, when he turned himself in, agreed to share all the information he had about HYDRA operations to help us take them down. He’s been _extremely_ helpful in that fight.”

 

“And sharing this information now isn’t going to put your goal to take HYDRA down in jeopardy?” Christine tartly inquires.

 

The only thing that stops him from being a sarcastic ass is the fact that Steve leans into his mic and says, “We cannot share the status of active Avenger missions.”

 

The anger that flashes through her eyes at Steve’s polite answer almost makes him burst out laughing. Tony manages to hold it in until they’re alone in the elevator. _Then_ he cracks up. He leans on Steve’s shoulder, chuckling as he wipes the tears out of his eyes. “Did you see the _look_ on her face when Steve said that?”

 

“She looked ready to fillet, fry, and eat him,” Clint laughs.

 

Steve’s lips tremble, trying so hard not to grin when he primly replies, “It’s _true_. We’re in the middle of cleaning up HYDRA’s operations. We can’t jeopardize that mission.”

 

“Never mind the fact that all the recon we’ve been doing here has turned up nothing but empty bases we’ve blown to kingdom-come,” Natasha snorts next to Thor. “Speaking of that though, I heard from a source there might be some HYDRA activity out in Europe.”

 

“What manner of activity?” Thor asks as the elevator climbs higher and higher.

 

Natasha’s eyes, Tony notes, are locked onto the display showing the numbers crawl higher and higher. She must be eager to get back to Bucky. Ah, speaking of him though. Tony slips his helmet back on and quietly tells JARVIS to show him what’s happening online. JARVIS tosses up two twitter feeds. “Bucky Barnes” is trending as well as “#FreeBarnes” that’s... reassuring he supposes. Never mind that Bucky isn’t exactly a prisoner...

 

A long list of headlines sweeps up. Tony mumbles, “JARVIS, separate the news into positive, negative, and neutral categories. Make sure Bucky doesn’t see the negative ones.”

 

“Understood, Sir. Would you like to see breaking news footage as well?”

 

Tony’s about to say yes when he feels someone touching his back. Turning to the side, he meets Steve’s concerned eyes. He’s taken his cowl off, showing off his superb helmet hair and pretty blue eyes. “Everything okay?”

 

Pushing his faceplate up, Tony asks, “Yeah, it’s pretty good for the first wave of news. Why you ask?”

 

“Oh. You were... I thought there might be some threat. Because you put your helmet on.”

 

Whoops. Tony shakes his head. “I wanted to know what people are saying about the press conference.”

 

“All good?”

 

“Mostly good. Some bad. Some fear mongering. It’s too soon to say anything definitive.”

 

Steve’s hand slides a couple of inches down to rest snug at the center of his back. Tony wishes he wasn’t wearing his armor.

 

“JARVIS, where’s Bucky?” Tony asks.

 

“Sergeant Barnes is currently sitting in Sir’s living room watching the news. I have restricted his access from selected channels already.”

 

“Let’s go see how he’s doing.”

 

Steve’s hand stays low on his back well, moving away only when he moves away to takes the empty seat next to Bucky. Tony moves to stand behind Bucky, Steve, and Natasha, directing JARVIS to pull up CNN.

 

\--

 

Things go from a snail’s pace to a bullet train going off the rails. Thor makes a face at the analogy, asking, “Would that not imply that things are taking a turn for the worse?”

 

His life is like a whirlwind. There’s a throng of press, supporters, and protesters camped outside the Tower now. Everyone and their mother calls asking for a response to some question or another. Bucky’s got two lawyers now who will represent him during the public hearing that’s scheduled a week before Christmas.

 

“No one’s going to watch it. Everyone’s going to be running around trying to find the latest tech gizmo their kids been begging them to get,” Clint tries to reassure him. “Speaking of that, hey Tony. Can you get me one of those new Stark phone’s that just came out? Laura’s been dropping anvil sized hints about wanting one of those in blue.”

 

“Arctic Ice,” Tony corrects thoughtlessly from the other end of the couch. “Sure. Just let me know if you want the 64, 128, or 256 GB.”

 

They fly to Washington on the quinjet. There’s a lengthy discussion on the way over if Bucky should be handcuffed or not. Bucky _insists_ he should be. It’ll make a better statement. As they pass by the line of photographers snapping pictures like their lives depend on it, Natasha leans in to whisper, “I’m proud of you.” It helps him keep his head high well after he’s led into an armored car.

 

One nerve wracking night in the cell later, he’s sitting in front of a small group of government representatives reading his prepared statement. His left hand shakes the entire time, the right stays steady as a rock. His voice breaks at several times during the statement. Bucky dares a few looks up at the people peering thoughtfully back down at him. There’s curiosity, thoughtfulness, a touch of suspicion but no outright hostility. No, _that_ comes out when it’s time for the questions.

 

The questions. Oh, the _questions_ these people ask. There’s some sensible ones sure, but there’s utterly irrelevant ones too. There’s nothing subtle about how they’re implying he’d getting preferential treatment because of his close ties with Tony and Steve. There’s less subtle questions that probing into his recovery if he’s _really_ recovered and he’s still not loyal to HYDRA.

 

Tony’s next on the stand. Then Steve. The day after that, Natasha and Charles Xavier. Charles’ testimony happens behind closed doors. Reed Richard comes in, Tony’s therapist follows, and some other people Bucky didn’t know Tony consulted. Much to everyone’s joint annoyance, the committee says they’re going to give their decision on the 28th of December. What makes it worse is that Bucky’s stuck in Washington in a cell all by himself until the committee comes back. At least Steve and Natasha visit him on Christmas morning.

 

“Sorry we didn’t bring you anything,” Natasha apologizes as she sits on the bed next to him. She nods at the guard standing at the door. “They’re worried you might escape.”

 

“Or we’re going to help you escape,” Steve dryly adds, leaning across from the couple against the wall.

 

With the tiniest of scoffs, Bucky mutters, “If I wanted to escape I wouldn’t need anyone's help.”

 

The guard watching them? His fingers twitch against his belt, inching half a centimeter closer to his gun. Bucky starts rolling his eyes and stops. He asks about the others. Thor’s gone to New Mexico to spend the holiday with his girlfriend. Clint’s flown back home to spend the day with his own family.

 

“What about Tony?”

 

“He said something about meeting a platypus, so I guess he’s visiting the zoo.” Steve shrugs helplessly. To say that Bucky’s confused would be an understatement. Tony’s eccentric as hell but this is pushing the boundaries.

 

They don’t talk about what’s going to happen in three days. They don’t give Bucky any undue reassurances and it helps keep him grounded. He lies in the too small, lumpy bed, staring at the dark ceiling, and tells himself he can do it. No matter what happens, no matter what decisions are made... he’ll make it through it. He prepares himself for the worst. Life in prison. A more public trial. Being brought in front of the UN for his crimes. Multiple life sentences. They’ll probably toss him in another, worse prison.

 

Reality isn’t as harsh as he anticipates it to be but it isn’t gentle either. The committee does indeed decide he needs to answer for his crimes and thus, a proper trial has to be organized. The date of the trial will be announced at a later date. For now, Bucky will be handed back to the Avengers, who will keep watch over him until the trial.

 

“All things considered,” Clint tells him as they fly Bucky back to the Tower, “that went well. The trial’s gonna be a media shit show but we’ll be alright. It won’t be hard for us to prove you’re alright.”

 

“But there’s no real proof that I was brainwashed. Not that we found.”

 

“Found _yet_.” Thor points out as leans back in his chair. “I’m certain these HYDRA scientists would have maintained detailed records. It is only a matter of finding it. Do not worry, my friend. We stand by your side and will do what is necessary to help you win your freedom.”

 

“Thanks Thor,” Bucky smiles at the god.

 

Bucky repeats the sentiment at the small late Christmas slash early New Years party Tony throws on the 30th. It’s a small gathering of their friends but the pile of gifts under the huge pine tree is _intimidating_. Bucky gives his small thank you speech before the catered dinner. He gets playfully booed and gently shoved around before he can finish. Bucky ducks his head, grinning at his feet when Thor pulls him against his side.

 

“Of course we would stand by your side,” Thor tells him, squeezing his shoulder so hard Bucky feels the pinch down to the metal joint. “You need not thank us.”

 

“What he said,” Tony chimes in. “Come on! This is supposed to be a party! Don’t go bringing the mood down like this, Barnes. JARVIS, pump up the music.”

 

\--

 

Tony’s drunk. He’s _so_ drunk. But it’s a party and he’s with friends, so it’s okay! And they’re celebrating. Christmas and a new year and how Bucky’s hearing didn’t go as badly as they’d thought it would. He’s not thinking about the trial and what a damn mess that’s gonna be because that’s a downer. That’s future hims’ problem. Current hims’ problem is trying to find a waiter to get him another glass of brandy. Or no. Scotch. Yeah. Some good scotch.

 

Or oh! Tony perks up as he remembers Thor saying he’d brought some alcohol over from Asgard. Some hard stuff for Steve, Bucky, himself, and other stuff for the “lesser mortals.” Tony will gladly suck up that title if it means getting to taste some alien booze.

 

Everyone’s spread out around the living room, many of his friends still happily oo-ing and aa-ing over their Christmas presents. Clint’s testing out his new bow by gleefully asking everyone to give him increasingly challenging targets. Natasha’s tucked under Bucky’s arm, toying with the silver locket Bucky had gotten her. Bucky’s showing her Clint’s gag gift, a bunch of recipe books that have recipe’s so simple “even an idiot can make these dishes!”

 

He’s so busy trying to find Thor that Tony doesn’t see where he’s going and walks right into a pile of discarded wrapping paper. He’s kicking his way out of it when he hears someone chuckling at him. Looking up, Tony sees Steve laughing. Tony’s delighted to see that he’s got a drink in hand that’s not root beer.

 

Waving a hand at him, Tony says, “Stop laughing and help me out of here.”

 

“You look like you’ve got it covered. Watch out for all the sticky tape sticking out.”

 

Tony manages to wade his way through under the watchful eye of a giggly Captain America. Tony leans on the man as he reaches down to peel a strip of tape off his pants.

 

“I can’t believe Captain America left me to fend for myself. What happened to leave no man behind? What if I’d slipped on some shiny gift wrapping paper and beaned myself?”

 

“Wouldn’t be the weirdest injury in the world,” Steve replies back, eyes gleaming with mirth. “Wouldn’t even be the strangest injury in this season.”

 

“Meanie,” Tony teases, hand still resting cozily on Steve’s bicep. The man’s wearing a nice blue button-down today that frames his torso beautifully. If these sleeves could talk, they would surely be near tears. Ha, near tears. Get it? When he realizes he’s kind of petting Steve’s bicep, Tony lets his hand drop down against his side. It might be the alcohol talking but Steve looks distinctly disappointed. Tony clears his throat and points at the glass the blond is holding. “What you got there?”

 

“Special Asgardian mead. Thor said it’s strong enough for it to get me and Bucky drunk, but,” Steve holds the glass up to eye level and squints, “I dunno. I can’t feel nuthin’.”

 

Tony grins ear to ear at Steve’s thickening accent. “Sounds like it’s making its way through you.” He reaches up to brush the back of his fingers against Steve’s flushed cheeks. “Looks it too. Your face is all red.”

 

The alarmed expression on Steve’s face as he touches his own cheek, hand unwittingly cupping Tony’s in the process, has Tony chuckling some more. “You’re acting like you’ve never gotten drunk before.”

 

“It’s been so long, I can’t remember when. After the serum, I couldn’t get drunk no matter what I tried.”

 

His hand is still trapped against Steve’s cheek. Tony blames the alcohol for how long it takes for him to realize this. But then Steve turns his face, nuzzling into his palm with a soft, “Your hands are so cold.”

 

Flustered, Tony stammers, “Arc reactor. It uh... bad blood circulation. Always got cold hands.”

 

“Mm, s’ true then.”

 

“What is?”

 

Blue eyes peer softly down at him. His palm is still pressed against the corner of Steve’s lips. Tony can feel the edge of his words when he says, “That people with cold hands have warm hearts.”

 

 _Jesus_. His heart does a full out belly flop, flapping around on the floor like a dying fish. Shaking his head to stop his brain from thinking up of more bad analogies, Tony tries to think of a suitable reply instead. But then Steve just yanks the rug out from under him by turning to brush a dry kiss to the inside of Tony’s wrist. The sensitive skin there sends _tingles_ racing up his arm. The heated look Steve directs his way through his lashes turns Tony’s knees to water.

 

“You sure you want to do that in public?” Tony rasps.

 

He doesn’t know how it happens but one minute he’s standing in the middle of the living room hoping his good pants don’t have sticky tape stuck on them. And the next they’re standing in a shadowy corner, Tony’s back against the wall and Steve’s forearm pressed next to his ear. Steve’s so close Tony needs to take a deep breath and their chests will brush together. One wrong twitch and their thighs will drag against each other. Where’d his drink go as well? Tony realizes he’s got one palm flat against the wall behind him and the other’s tucked nonchalantly in his pocket.

 

“This better?” Steve asks, voice low and husky.

 

Fuck. No. It isn’t. And it is.

 

Tony swallows audibly, watching Steve watch the bob of his Adam’s apple. What are they even doing? Why does he want to use this lit match to burn the whole fucking house down? Deliberately, Tony runs his tongue over his lips and turns his face up smugly when he sees Steve track the motion. He presses his fingertips against Steve’s side, watching the way the blond’s lashes flutter with an unsteady breath as Tony slowly runs his palm up Steve’s chest. He notes, with a touch of disappointment, that Steve’s probably wearing an undershirt beneath the button down. Pity. Tony can’t help but smirk when Steve shivers under his palm.

 

 

 

 

 

“Cold?” Tony asks, wondering if he’ll spook Steve if he was to use his free hand to pull Steve up against him. Toe to toe, chest to chest, groin to groin.

 

He’s delighted when Steve takes half a step forward. Making space for himself between Tony’s thighs. The feel of Steve’s thigh between both of his...Tony’s glad he’s got a wall behind him. Heat continues to pool between his legs, making him want to cave to its gravity and grind against Steve’s thigh.

 

 _It’ll feel so good,_ the devil on his shoulder whispers in his ear. _He’s all muscle. And thick. He’ll let you too. Look at the way he’s looking at you._

 

But Tony doesn’t. Mostly because the chance is taken away from him because Steve presses even closer. Steve’s thigh is right _there_ against his crotch. There’s no way he can miss Tony’s hardening erection. It’s a little embarrassing but mostly...it’s stupidly arousing. Knowing that Steve can feel him... and oh. Tony’s brain breaks a little when he feels Steve’s erection pressing against him too. There’s a whimper that dies half-way up his throat, claws stuck in his vocal chords. His fingers curl into Steve’s shirt, causing the already taut material to stretch to its breaking point. But it holds. Steve’s breathing is steady as he holds Tony’s gaze. There’s hopeful intent there; an open invitation just for Tony. Remembering he’s got a second hand, Tony decides to go for broke and slips his hand behind Steve’s head. Cups the back of his head and pulls him in.

 

But before their lips meet, Tony whispers, warns (pleads), “You better not regret this in the morning.”

 

He swallows down the warm puff of air that is Steve’s answer: “How could I?”

 

\--

 

Bucky wakes up with his face under a pillow and a headache pounding in his head. Regret sluices over him, making him bury his whimper against Natasha’s sheets. What’s the last thing he remembers? Bucky forces his brain to work. He remembers everything up to the present opening. It’s afterwards, when Thor had pressed a glass full of rich golden liquid in it into Bucky’s hand that things start getting fuzzy around the edges.

 

“Alcohol doesn’t do shit for me,” Bucky had pointed out.

 

But Thor had pressed the glass into Bucky’s hand, “You will feel the effects of this, trust me.”

 

Bucky remembers the _burn_ of the alcohol when he’d taken a swing. Thor had laughed and praised him for his warrior spirit before topping him off. He remembers Thor moving away after that, looking for Steve. Bucky remembers staring distrustfully at his glass, wondering if Thor’s given him gasoline to drink. Not that Bucky’s ever drank that but the burning sensation...he imagine drinking gasoline would be like that.

 

Things get _distinctly_ hazy after that. Bucky remembers Natasha destroying them all in some game that had involved stripping. He remembers cheerfully losing on purpose. Natasha had tossed his clothes back at him, telling him to get dressed before they went back to her room. He’d pointed out it would be useless because he planned for them to be naked as soon as they were alone. She’d laughed.

 

 _What else..._ Bucky tries to remember. He remembers Natasha laughing as he’d tugged her towards the elevator, eager to be alone so that he could peel her dark turtleneck off. He remembers someone interrupting their walk to the elevator... but who had it been? He remembers glancing around the room...the guys were playing on. Jane and Betty were sitting on the couch, heels kicked off and feet under them as they chattered away about science things. And on the other side of the room...

 

His eyes fly open as the memory comes back, and says, “Holy shit.”

 

Next to him, Natasha stirs with a grumble. With a guilty start, Bucky holds his breath and waits, wincing when Natasha rolls over to glare at him. He smiles sheepishly at her, surprise pushed aside in favor of fond affection at the sight of the world’s most feared spy lying next to him, hair a complete mess and hickey’s dotting her fair skin. Bucky holds his arms out for her, smiling harder when she accepts his invitation to cuddle and curls into his side. He assumes she wants to sleep some more but she smoothly moves to straddle him, grinding their sexes together.

 

One hand going to her ass and the other on her back to pull her down for a kiss, Bucky decides he’ll tell her that he saw Steve and Tony making out later. _Much_ later.

 

\--

 

Awareness trickles into his consciousness slowly.

 

The first sensation is pain. Why’d he thought drinking all that alcohol would be a good idea? _Why_? He wants to build a time machine for the express purpose of going back to yesterday and slapping himself from drinking more than he ought have.

 

 _This is what Hell must feel like_... Tony complains to himself. 

 

The next thing Tony tries to categorize is where he’s at. For that, he wriggles his fingers and toes, which tells him that 's still got control over his extremities. He’s a multitasker even when dying of a hangover. Anyways. The sheets feel silky smooth under him. He’s under a thick quilt. Probably his own bed. He wriggles a little and realizes his stomach itches. But he ignores that for the moment. 

 

Tony needs to find the energy to open his eyes, which feel _very_ crusty. Tony squints through one eye and sees soft gray mixing with deep green. Yep, this is his bed. Exhaling carefully, Tony opens his other eye. It feels like...ugh. He doesn’t know what time it feels like. By his accounts, it’s too early to be awake. Regardless of the time though, Tony keeps the shades drawn when he’s sleeping. And right now? His room is... it’s not _bright_. But it’s not the complete darkness he prefers. JARVIS knows his preferences... there’s no way he’d change protocols. It doesn’t matter if Tony had been too sloshed to tell JARVIS to maintain blackout after coming in, JARVIS would have done it anyways.

 

The next thing that filters through his hangover is the sound of the shower running. Or more precisely, it’s the sound of the shower _stopping._ The absence of the sound jerks Tony to wakefulness more efficiently than a bucket of cold water being dumped on his head. Panic makes him push himself up on his elbows and struggle to free himself of the sheets. He’d brought someone home last night? That’s careless. More worrying is the thought of _Steve_ seeing him bring someone else back. But who is it? _When_ did Tony even have a chance to meet someone and bring them back to his room? He shivers when his feet hit the cool floor, hand absentmindedly scratching at his stomach.

 

Tony looks down, more seeking out his clothes than intended to see why his stomach is itching. But he winds up seeing the dried flecks on his stomach anyways. And blinks because...that’s dried come. Too much to be his own. So that means... _he brought a guy back_. Horrified doesn’t even _start_ to cover what he’s feeling.

 

There’s the squeaking sound of a mirror being cleaned. That has Tony hopping out of bed and into his closet. Whoever this guy is, is going to come out any minute too. And Tony doesn’t want to greet him in his birthday suit. Tony grabs the first pair of sleeping pants, t-shirt, and dressing gown in his reach - gray sweatpants, a thin black band shirt, and his best silk dressing gown. He’s just shrugged the dressing gown on when he hears heavy footsteps padding out of the bedroom. Tony doesn’t know who’s more surprised, Steve upon seeing Tony’s awake or Tony upon realizing it’s _Steve_.

 

 _I... I had sex with Steve_? Tony thinks, dumbstruck as he blinks at the sight of Steve standing in his bedroom in just his underclothes. And oh, look at that. He really _was_ wearing an undershirt. And oh. _Wow_. Not only is Steve wearing Under Armor boxers, he is also _packing_. Tony feels a touch light headed if he’s honest.

 

“Oh,” Steve says dumbly, hands twisting the towel in his hands. “You’re up.”

 

Tony looks up with a blink. It takes less than a heartbeat for his eyes to dart up and that’s all the time it takes for a more important thought to smack into his brain: his ass doesn’t feel sore. He feels _really_ light headed now. Captain America _catches_. In the back of Tony’s brain, there’s a party happening. Like the 4th of July but on crack. Steve turns to toss the towel back somewhere into the bathroom and that breaks Tony out of his stupor. Tony takes a step forward, and another, sitting down in the wing chair he favors and watches Steve shuffle around looking for his pants.

 

“So uh,” Tony begins. “About last night.”

 

There’s a wince that Steve tries to repress but Tony catches it anyways. Steve bends down to scoop up his shirt and tugs it on. “What about it?” he asks, tone wary.

 

Danger bells ring in his head. He needs to tread lightly here. Tony decides several things within the space of the next few and precious seconds. He doesn’t remember most of last night, thank you Thor. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want a repeat performance. This is _Steve_. Tony’s only been crushing on him for months. And now that Steve’s here... well. Tony never said he wasn’t a selfish man.

 

“I don’t...remember a lot of it.” Tony ducks his head, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he thinks of the last thing he remembers. “I remember talking to you. I remember us... flirting. In the hallway. But I don’t remember after that.”

 

The silence from Steve is...nerve wracking. Feeling insecure in a way Tony _rarely_ does, he drums his fingers against his knee and tells himself not to look up. Not until he’s counted to ten. _Then_ , Tony looks up and sees Steve pensively staring at his feet. He’s also grabbed his pants at some point.

 

Steve peeks up at Tony. He looks so painfully vulnerable when he asks, “You really don’t remember?”

 

He opens his mouth to agree but there’s something about the way Steve looks at him that shakes a memory loose. Tony feels the ghost of Steve’s hands pushing his thighs open, asking a question Tony can’t remember but the answer led to a kiss being dropped inches away from his hard dick.

 

Heat crawls up his chest when Tony roughly admits, “Not...the details.”

 

The hope that sparks in Steve’s eyes at his words is...it has Tony sitting up straighter. In fact, it makes him stand up and walk up to Steve. Steve stands still, baby blues widening as Tony raises a hand to touch a fading mark on the taller man’s clavicle. It’s barely a bruise. But as soon as Tony touches it, it feels wrong. He should be pressing his lips to the spot. The way he did last night as he’d been trying to get Steve out of his shirt.

 

Swallowing, Tony murmurs, “The more I think about it...the more I...” He runs his fingers down, tracing the deep-U of Steve’s undershirt. “...am around you. The more things are coming back.”

 

Steve’s hand is dry and warm as it wraps around his own, stopping Tony’s lazy wanderings. “Tony...”

 

“Do _you_ remember last night?” Tony looks up at him. “I seem to remember you being as drunk as I was.”

 

With a small chuckle, Steve nods. “Yeah. I was. But I wasn’t _that_ drunk that I didn’t know what I was doing.” He meets Tony’s gaze. “Or who I was with.”

 

 _Ah_. That covers that doesn’t it. It wasn’t a mistake then. Tony licks his lips, wanting to ask something... keep this conversation going. But he doesn’t know what to say. What to ask. What to _do_ to keep Steve here.

 

“Steve...” he starts helplessly.

 

Thankfully, Steve takes over, gently squeezing his hand. “I knew who was I was. I knew what I wanted.”

 

How his voice doesn’t crack when Tony asks “Wanted?” is a mystery. Which makes him want to curse because he hadn’t meant for his insecurities to come out so blatantly.

 

Heat burns in the depths of Steve’s eyes when he murmurs, “ _Want_.”

 

There’s not enough oxygen in the room all of a sudden. Tony slides his free hand around Steve’s waist, gently urging him closer. He’s got his eyes locked on Steve’s lips, watching the way his tongue comes out to sweep over the swollen flesh. Tony takes his time, telegraphing his intent and giving Steve the chance to back out if he wants. But Steve meets him halfway eagerly. Tony’s heart flutters against his rib cage when Steve’s around goes around his shoulders to pull him closer as well. He’s in the present and in the past, remembering how this kiss, while it is gentle, is equally hungry and passionate as all the ones from last night. Tony exhales through his nose, capturing Steve’s bottom lip between both of his and suckling on it liquid quick. Steve groans right as Tony lets go, smushing their noses together.

 

It’s silly and adorable and Tony can’t help but grin like an idiot as he holds Steve against him. “You want to stay in bed?” he can’t help but offer, one hand already tugging on Steve’s shirt. “Help me refresh my memory?”

 

“That’s _terrible_ ,” Steve complains with a smile.

 

“I don’t see you arguing,” Tony points out, happily divesting Steve of his shirt before pulling on his undershirt.

 

Steve silences him with a kiss that leaves Tony’s lips tingling. “I’m not the one overdressed,” Steve points out.

 

Tony raises a challenging eyebrow. “And what are you gonna do about it, Rogers?”

 

Have him naked and back in bed in ten seconds flat, that’s what.

 

\--

 

The trial is as bad as Bucky imagined it would be. He’d thought that being questioned about his harrowing experience would be bad. But _seeing_ the _extensive_ videos HYDRA had made of his...transformation into the Winter Soldier? Bucky’d had to ask his lawyer to take a break. It had been too much for him. The thing that makes this all so unbearable is how drawn out the whole process is. TV shows lied to him about how fast the judicial process is. He comes in every day in handcuffs, is made to sit there and listen to experts of all kinds, the closest thing they’ve got to witnesses, and his fellow Avengers talk about one topic at a time when there’s a mountain of things to cover.

 

He’s kept in a special cell during the proceedings, under guard. Not the Avengers however. They’re considered too close to the case so the judge has asked for armed police to keep an eye on him. But his friends _are_ allowed to visit. Today, Steve’s visiting. He sits next to the lawyers, listening but not contributing to their usual prep. The main guy, the one who’s been with Bucky since the start, is talking about what tomorrow’s session is going to cover.

 

“They’re going to put you up on the stand and ask about the Starks.” Steve jerks in his seat at that, something that draws Bucky’s attention away temporarily before coming back to the lawyer, who turns a sheet of paper and continues to read. “They submitted a video into evidence that shows you killing them. They’re going to ask you how much you remember. Tell them what you told me but also, emphasize that you weren’t feeling anything. You’ve got the memories of carrying out your orders but there was no emotions involved.”

 

The instructions continue for another thirty or so minutes, Bucky nodding obediently. His attention however, is divided. He can’t help but shoot worried looks over at Steve, whose complexion has turned the color of chalky milk when the lawyers play the video and go over the different questions Bucky will be asked. Bucky doesn’t know how to describe the look on Steve’s face. It’s like he’s seen a ghost but... not. He looks...scared. Bucky can’t make sense of it. He glances at the freeze frame on the laptop, and wonders if Steve’s bad reaction is happening because of the video? It’s one thing to hear that Bucky assassinated people, another to see it.

 

He doesn’t get a chance to ask Steve what’s wrong until his lawyers leave the room for a quick lunch break. The guards outside peek through the window to make sure Bucky’s hands are still handcuffed to the table before returning to their posts. Steve’s sitting across from him, breathing shallowly. He looks in a bad way. The lawyers are barely out of the room when Bucky leans in to ask, “Steve? What’s wrong?”

 

Pale lips part, breathing in a slow, whistling breath that has Bucky’s stomach twisting into a worried knot. “Does Tony know?”

 

“About?”

 

An odd emotion flickers in Steve’s eyes as he asks, “That you... you’re the one responsible for his parents... death.”

 

With a soft sigh, Bucky leans back into his chair. If his hands weren’t handcuffed, he’d be rubbing them over his eyes. It’s just concern. “He knows.” The startled look that flashes across Steve’s face is _telling_. Bucky tries not to let it get to him and keeps his voice steady when he explains, “I told him myself as soon as I remembered.”

 

“You... told him.”

 

That odd emotion again. If Bucky didn’t know any better... he’d call it guilt. There’s the dead quality to his statement as well. He looks like he doesn’t know what to think. Bucky nods, staring at the table as memories of that night come to mind. His fingers curl into fists. He holds them tight before forcing them to relax.

 

“Yeah. I told him everything I remembered. I remembered more of it later but...I didn’t tell Tony. He doesn’t need to know the exact details of how I killed his parents.”

 

Bucky tiredly thinks of the video and wonders if Tony’s seen it already. He hopes Tony hasn’t. With a tired sigh, Bucky raises his head and sits up straight again because Steve looks like he could be knocked over with a feather.

 

“He...knows,” Steve says slowly, so pale now Bucky’s worried the man’s going to pass out any second. “I didn’t think he knew.”

 

Something snaps audibly inside of him. Bucky hears the parts clicking together sharply. The chains holding his hands together clink as he leans forward on the desk. “ _You_ knew? You knew I was the one who’d killed his parents?”

 

“I _didn’t_! Not for sure...” Uncertainty wars with guilt and it’s all painted black by the fear that’s rising in Steve’s eyes. “Right before we took down SHIELD, Natasha and me went to this base and...there was a computer that had Zola’s consciousness in it. You know Zola, right? He said...HYDRA was behind a lot of things. Implied they were the ones who  got you to kill Howard.”

 

There’s a long, long stretch of silence after that. Steve doesn’t say anything. He just stares at his clenched hands resting on top of the table, still as a statue. Bucky’s about to ask what’s wrong again when Steve, oh so quietly, admits, “I never told him.”

 

“ _What_?”

 

Steve runs a hand over his face, through his hair, avoiding Bucky’s eyes when he says, “I didn’t tell Tony. I thought...”

 

“You _never_ told him that you knew HYDRA was the one responsible?” Bucky asks in disbelief. “How long have you known?” Steve doesn’t answer. But he doesn’t have to. Bucky can do the maths on his own. He shakes that question aside for the more important inquiry. “ _How_ could you not tell him? He deserved to know the truth!”

 

“I know!” Steve answers, voice rough with anguish. “I don’t know why I didn’t! I barely knew him when I found out. I thought I was sparing him by not telling him. The past was the past. Why dreg up the past?”

 

“It’s his _parents_ , Steve!” Bucky’s sharp tone makes Steve cringe so hard his chair shuffles to the side. “It doesn’t matter if it happened thirty years ago. He deserved to know the truth as soon as you found out, whether you guys were fucking or not!”

 

Steve folds into himself with a wince. Bucky catches the wetness gathering in Steve’s eyes when he hides his face behind his hands and sighs himself. Fuck. That was too harsh. Bucky takes a deep breath and tries again.

 

“You should have told him, Steve. No excuses.”

 

“I know.”

 

“You need to tell him.”

 

Steve looks up at that, stricken. “If I tell him... he might...We _just_ started seeing each other. Tony might break up with me.”

 

That’s a fair concern. But Bucky also knows Steve. At least... he thought he knew. He never thought Steve would keep something this momentous a secret from _anyone_.

 

“But is this a secret you can live with? Can you keep it inside now that you know that Tony knows?”

 

Steve’s worried gaze meets his. Neither of them break the silence, not until the lawyers return and Steve quietly begs leave.

 

 _Fuck_. What a mess.

 

\--

 

When Tony comes home and finds Steve waiting for him in his bedroom, he can’t help but smile, part of his tiredness sloughing off at the sight of his boyfriend sitting on the couch reading. It’s very domestic and sweet. It makes Tony want to come home on time just so he can see Steve lounging around in his suite.

 

“Honey, I’m home,” Tony teases as he closes the bedroom door behind him. Steve looks up with a jerk, huffing out a smile when Tony holds out his arms and demands, “Gimme a kiss.”

 

Steve shakes his head, still grinning, stands up, and walks over to take Tony into his arms, and kisses him sweetly. Tony hums delightedly, pushing up to his toes and into Steve before falling back on his heels. He slides his hands up Steve’s sides and asks, “How was your day?”

 

The sense that something is wrong crawls up his spine when Steve avoids his eye, peering down between them to murmur, “Met with Bucky today.”

 

“Yeah? How’s he doing? Does he need anything?”

 

 _Wrong, wrong, wrong. Something’s wrong_ , wails a voice in his head when Steve gently nudges him over to the couch he’s recently vacated. “Buck’s doing okay. Didn’t say he needed anything.”

 

It’s not that Steve’s the most verbose person in the world but he’s rarely this...reticent. And he doesn’t avoid Tony’s eyes like this. Like he’s....guilty. Tony feels a cool chill spreading up through his fingertips. “What’s wrong?”

 

Steve’s flinch is pronounced. His fingers twitch around Tony’s hands before he exhales shakily. His blue eyes peek up at Tony before sliding away to stare at a spot on Tony’s shirt. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

 

 _He’s going to break up with me._ The thought falls down like a strike of lightning in Tony’s mind. He holds his breath, feeling the chill expand and turn ice cold. It’s too soon. It’s way too soon for Steve to arrive at that conclusion. The average time it takes for someone to realize that being with Tony is more trouble than it’s worth (5 weeks. It’s barely been 2 for them). What’s he done wrong? What’d he say?

 

“I knew the truth. About what happened to your parents. I’ve known that HYDRA was the one responsible for their deaths. Known it for a while.”

 

There’s pain creeping through his arm like clawed fingers making their way through his veins until they reach their destination and clench around his wounded heart. Tony forgets to blink, forgets to _breathe_ as he Steve’s down turned expression. Tony realizes he’s taken his hand back only when it slaps down against his thigh and Steve winces at the sound.

 

“How long?” He hears himself asking, the question barely audible over the buzzing in his ears.

 

“Tony...”

 

Anger, as sudden as a tsunami washes over him, sharpens his voice when he asks, “How long have you known?”

 

Meek is not a word he associates with Steve Rogers. Neither is ashamed. But here he is, trying his best to curl his large body into himself as he clutches his hands together and whispers, “Since before SHIELD fell. Me and Natasha, we-”

 

Tony doesn’t want to hear it. The betrayal is too great for him to hear the explanation. Rather, he has a question of his own. “Why didn’t you tell me then?”

 

“I...” Steve falters. Scrubs a hand over his brow before he shakes his head helplessly. “I don’t know. I thought-”

 

“Did you know it was Bucky the whole time?”

 

“No!” Steve’s startled blue eyes fly up to meet him, beseeching. “No, I didn’t know! I _suspected_...”

 

Tony’s on his feet in a heartbeat. A poor decision considering how weak his knees are feeling. But he needs to leave _right now_. He’s always considered it poor fucking form that Steve and Natasha never told the rest of them about HYDRA infiltrated SHIELD. But finding out that Steve’s known about his parents _assassination_ for almost over a year? The ache in Tony’s chest is reminiscent of the pangs that ran through him after Ob-Stane pulled his arc reactor out of his chest.

 

He feels Steve reaching for him, touching his arm. Tony whips around and snarls something at the blond, not sure what he says but whatever the words are, they hit their mark because Steve takes a stricken step back. _Good_ , Tony thinks viciously and sweeps out, pointedly slamming the door behind him.

 

He needs some fucking air.

 

\--

 

Bucky’s in the middle of reading this book Natasha had given him when the sound of metal hitting metal pulls him out of the zone. He presses the book against his chest, looking across the cell to see who has interrupted him.

 

With a blink, Bucky sits up with a “Tony! What are you doing here?”

 

Tired brown eyes crinkle as Tony smiles faintly, “Thought I’d drop by with some bear claws. Want?” He holds up the plain white box for Bucky to see.

 

Bucky glances over at his guards. They nod and open the door for Tony to step in. Tony nods his thanks to the pair before sitting down next to Bucky’s hip, holding the open pastry box out towards him. Shuffling up into a seated position, back against the brick wall, Bucky pulls a pastry out.

 

“Not that I’m not grateful for the company, but you can’t tell me you came out all the way to Washington just because you thought I’d like some sweets.”

 

“I sensed your cravings from across the continent,” Tony smirks, tearing a generous portion slathered in sugar and almonds. “Better watch it. Barnes. All those calories are gonna go straight to your thighs. Not sure Natasha’s a thigh girl.”

 

With an utterly undignified snort that almost makes a thinly sliced almond go down the wrong tube, Bucky chokes out, “Give a man some warning.”

 

Tony winks as he chews on the sugary bread, nudging the box closer to Bucky. He waits for Bucky to take another piece before taking one for himself as well. Bucky cautiously chews and wonders what inspired Tony’s sudden visit out East.

 

There’s the tired slump to Tony’s shoulders. The pronounced lines around his eyes. The hurt that’s creeping through as Tony stares sightlessly at the floor. Bucky wracks his brain wondering what’s the issue. It has to be linked to tomorrow. Is this Tony’s way of showing support for Bucky? Or is it something else? Something Steve related... Bucky wonders if maybe Steve followed his advice and told Tony the truth. But he doesn’t ask. Bucky’s learned the hard way you can lead Tony Stark to a conversation but you can’t make him hold it. So he bids his time.

 

There’s a small bite of pastry left at the bottom of the box when Tony finally shares, “Steve told me that he knew. Before.”

 

“Steve's a dumbass,” Bucky wipes his fingers clean on the corner of his blankets and blinks at Tony’s surprised look. “He always was. Water’s wet and all that. It was crummy as fuck that he kept this from you.” And then taking a calculated risk, and because it’s Steve, Bucky shifts positions. He moves to sit next to Tony, shoulder to shoulder, and continues in a more gentler voice, “He was trying to protect you. He went about it ass-backwards but...”

 

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales noisily. “Bucky...”

 

“Just...don’t give up on him because of this. That’s all I ask.”

 

Bucky picks up the last of the bear claw and presses it against Tony’s fingers. Not a peace offering but, close enough. Tony lowers his hand, stares at the flaky pastry, stares at Bucky who stares back, and accepts the pastry. As Tony slowly chews, Bucky slips his arm around Tony’s shoulder and pulls him in for a hug. “Sorry my best friend’s such an idiot.”

 

“That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about,” Tony weakly offers in return.

 

Bucky grins faintly. He squeezes the shorter man’s shoulder and asks, “What are you going to do?”

 

Tony’s answer is a long, weary exhale. “I dunno.”

 

\--

 

It’s one thing telling your version of events to someone. It’s another to have every aspect of your recollection be pulled apart and examined under a microscope. His lawyers said it’s an attempt to see if they can catch him out in a lie. He finds it an exercise in futility.  _That’s why you never even thought about wanting to become a lawyer,_ a voice in his head snidely says. It sounds a lot like his dad.

 

So he bears with all the cross-examination. For the first time since his decision to come clean, Bucky feels world weary. It’s exhausting being the subject of this much skepticism. He’s grateful when he’s told to step down. Tony’s asked up next.

 

Tony sticks to the script with minimal banter. The only time he shows some pure Tony Stark snark is when he looks at Bucky, points at him, and asks, “You want me to believe Mr. Sleeping Beauty over here had any part to play in the decision to kill my parents when he couldn’t even fight off his own programming? I can’t believe that. Not one damn bit.”

 

The smile Tony gives him as he’s stepping down has Bucky sitting up straighter in his seat. But by the time they’re done, all Bucky wants to do is crawl into his small bunk and pass out until morning. The guards slap the cuffs back onto his feet and shuffle him out the building. Same as usual. That’s why it’s a surprise to step out and find Steve waiting for him, dressed in his Captain America blues to boot.

 

Bucky and his guards blink in surprise when Steve asks, in his most apple pie tone, “Mind if I tag along?”

 

The guards exchange a couple of confused looks before going, “Sure?”

 

Steve sits next to him inside the armored vehicle and waits until the car starts moving before he quietly asks, “How you holding up?”

 

Bucky shrugs weakly, “I knew it wouldn’t be easy.”

 

Steve squeezes his shoulder; Bucky leans into the touch. “You’re doing good. It’s the right thing to do.”

 

“Who knew doing the right thing could be so hard,” Bucky can’t help but drawl. As soon as Steve flinches however, Bucky realizes how that could be misconstrued. “I didn’t mean-”

 

“No. You’re right.” Steve scrubs a hand across his face, rubbing his eyes and forehead before lowering his hand to cup his lower mouth. Bucky looks carefully at his best friend. He looks tired. Worn. It has him shifting closer to Steve to touch his arm. Steve’s eyes flutter shut as he inhales. And then exhales, hand dropping back down. “I messed up, Buck.”

 

“You made a mistake. It’s not the end of the world.”

 

“I betrayed his trust.”

 

The guards are making a piss poor effort of acting like they’re not blatantly eavesdropping on this conversation. Bucky tries to turn so that he’s facing Steve and pitches his voice lower, “You made a _mistake_. It was a shit stupid mistake, for sure. If he stops trusting you because of it? I wouldn’t blame him.”

 

Steve’s shoulders droop, lips pressed thin unhappily.

 

“But,” Bucky continues, “you can win him back. Win his trust back. You’re gonna have to grovel like hell s’all.”

 

“I’ve been trying but he just...” Steve makes an odd gesture before he runs his hand through his hair, tugging on the short strands. “Last time I tried to get him to talk to me? He literally slammed the door in my face. He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

 

Wait.

 

“Get him to talk to you?” Bucky parrots with a small frown.

 

What’s _that_ supposed to mean?

 

Steve holds his hands out with a small shrug. “Went up to him and told him we needed to talk.”

 

_Oh God._

 

Bucky groans, into his hand. “Tell me you didn’t corner him and tell him he _had_ to talk?”

 

He groans again when Steve nods in apparent confusion and asks, “Yeah, why? What’s wrong with that?”

 

He’s surprised when one of the guards murmurs, “That’s not good, man.”

 

Looking up, Bucky sees Steve staring in surprise at the guard sitting across the small vehicle. Flustered at being caught, the guard stammers, “Look. I’d never tell my girl that we had to talk if I was in the dog house. I mean. I don’t want to force her to talk if she’s not willing. I wait till she’s cooled down.”

 

The guard sitting next to Bucky nods, “What he said. If my wife was mad at me and didn’t want to talk? I wouldn’t push. I learned the hard way that’s going to lead to more fights. It’s always better to wait.”

 

Bucky gestures with both hands at the guards, “What they said! Stevie... I know you’re stubborn and you _need_ to be stubborn if you want to win T-- _him_ back. But you also need to give him his space. You can’t just...”

 

When words fail him, Bucky wordlessly gestures with his hands. Thankfully, one of the guards speaks up, “You can’t just get all up in her space and demand she talk to you. You’re gonna get slapped instead of get her to open up and talk.”

 

Steve looks helplessly between the trio, clearly more lost than he had been before this conversation started. “So what do I do?”

 

“Give your guy time to cool down.”

 

“ _Don’t_ corner him and demand you need to talk,” Bucky adds in.

 

The second guard nods in agreement. “Send ‘em a note saying that you’ll be waiting to talk with them whenever they’re ready. That you want to make it work and are willing to do what it takes to win his trust back.”

 

“And then wait.”

 

Because Steve doesn’t look convinced, Bucky points out, “There’s no harm in trying it. Worse comes to worse? You can try your way if our way doesn’t pan out.”

 

“Okay... if you guys say so.”

 

\--

 

The first _week_ after Steve had told him the truth? Tony had taken to politely avoiding him at every turn. Nothing like a good cold shoulder to get your anger across to someone. The only problem was that Steve hadn’t gotten that memo. He’d tried to corner Tony at every turn, insisting that they needed to talk, that he wanted a chance to explain himself. Ha. _Ha_! Tony had ignored him every fucking time, growing increasingly angry at how Steve felt he was entitled to the conversation when Tony wanted very much to punch Steve across an ocean.

 

And then, with great abruptness, Steve stopped. It might be too soon to tell but it looks like Steve’s changed his strategy: he’s actually going to respect Tony’s wishes and give him space. The first day? Tony had been confused. Confusion has gradually morphed into relief. He’s glad he doesn’t have to take the long way up to his room. He’s glad Steve’s not backing him into corner or pulling him into empty rooms to try to get him to talk.

 

So when a letter shows up on his desk in Steve’s familiar handwriting, Tony mutters, “Should have known there was a catch.”

 

He’s proven wrong when he reads the note, surprise mounting to the point he needs to sit down. Tony re-reads the note until he has it memorized, not that it takes a lot of time considering the brevity of it.

 

“That’s all he said?” Pepper asks, putting her sandwich back down on her table. He’d taken their usual lunch call to catch her up on the latest news, including his love life.

 

Tony pulls the note up and dutifully reads, “Dear Tony, I’m sorry for the way I’ve been treating you. It was wrong of me to try and get you to talk to me when you weren’t ready. When you are ready, I’ll be waiting for you. I’ll be waiting to make everything up to you, including being a really crappy friend. Yours, Steve.” He passes her the note, “What do you think?”

 

Her eyes fly over the few sentences before she hands the paper over. “I think he’s doing what you asked him to do.”

 

“After _days_ of practically harassing me to talk to him, you’re telling me he finally came to this senses and realized he can’t force me to talk to him? Captain Stubborn himself?” Tony snorts, falling back into his chair and making the back squeak. “It’s a fucking Christmas miracle.”

 

“It’s February,” Pepper dryly points out.

 

“A Valentines day miracle.”

 

Rolling her eyes, Pepper picks her sandwich back up again. She shoots Tony’s plate a hard stare and he obediently nibbles on a sweet potato fry. Satisfaction gleams in her eyes as she chews. As she chews, she taps a finger against the note and raises an eyebrow.  _What are you going to do?_

 

Tony tilts his head in consideration to the silent question and shrugs helplessly.

 

Swallowing, Pepper says, “It sounds like he means it Tony.”

 

“Let’s see.”

 

“What if he means it. What if he’s going to give you space. Where do you see this going?” When Tony doesn’t answer, she asks again, “Are you... do you think you can forgive him?”

 

 _That’s_ the million dollar question isn’t it? Does he think he can forgive Steve for lying to him? Eventually. Probably. But he doesn’t want to make it easy because why should he? He wants Steve to understand how _deeply_ he fucked up. He supposes that if Steve shows that he’s truly regretful and tries to make up for his mistake in a sufficient enough fashion... Tony will forgive him faster.

 

It starts with a single red rose waiting for him in his R&D office. The small card accompanying the flower has a small Iron Man doodle on it and simply says, “Love, Steve.” The next day, its two tulips. Then three sunflowers. So on, and so forth. Tony accepts the bouquet of forget-me-not's, knowing there’s fifteen of the small flowers in the petite bouquet without being told. He ran out of vases on day 2 and has resorted to planting the flowers in glasses and mugs.

 

Tony’s trying to figure out where to put his mug full of forget-me-not's when someone knocks on the door. Flower mug still in hand, Tony turns to face Pepper’s amusement. “Opening a flower shop in here and forgot to tell me?”

 

“Steve,” Tony explains. He puts the newest flowers next to his laptop, fiddling with its placement until he realizes Pepper’s muffling her giggles. He straightens up, adjusts his jacket, and smoothly asks, “What are you doing down here?”

 

“I heard a rumor that you’ve been getting flowers from a secret admirer. I came down to see it for myself.” Pepper walks to the nearest flowers, sunflowers in a cylinder he’d welded into a makeshift vase, and fingers a petal. “This is one way to go about it, don’t you think?”

 

“He can’t buy his way into my good graces,” Tony points out.

 

“No one’s ever tried to do that by sending you flowers.”

 

That’s true. It’s kind of sweet and old-fashioned. Very Steve. Also pretty inefficient. Because, like Tony said, he can’t be bought. Not with flowers, not with _anything_. The notes that accompany the flowers though... well. Pepper doesn’t need to know about those. Tony’s fingers today’s note impatiently, wondering how long Pepper’s going to hang around. What’s today’s message? Is it a one liner telling him one of his qualities that Steve finds attractive? Is it a small story from their past where he caught Steve’s attention? Is it a story from Steve’s past?

 

Tony pulls the note out as soon as Pepper’s closed the door, hurriedly opening it and smiling when he sees its more than a few lines today. It’s a full page actually, folded down small. It’s... It’s an apology.

 

He blinks in surprise, leaning back in his chair as he reads.

 

_Dear Tony,_

 

_After I woke up in the present, I made up my mind to live my life with no regrets. I didn’t want to miss out on my chance again. I failed in that. I also failed you when I decided to keep the truth from you. Nothing I say can make up for that. But I still hope that you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me and that you haven’t given up on us. Because I haven’t._

 

_You gave me a home and a purpose as a fellow Avenger. But as Tony Stark? You gave me friendship and love. I’d hate to think that I lost my chance with you because I was an idiot. I don’t think I’ll ever have the words to explain how sorry I am for not telling you the truth when I should have. I don’t think I’ll ever stop regretting being a coward about that. But I do hope to earn back your trust back if you would just give me the chance._

 

_I’ll be waiting,_

 

_Steve._

 

He’s waited for an apology, an explanation, for so long now. Sure he hadn’t exactly given Steve a _chance_ to apologize but Tony’s a firm believer in the fact that if someone wants to do something and they’re determined enough, they’ll figure out a way. And Steve has.

 

Tony exhales, runs a hand down his face, and decides that something needs to be done. They can’t keep up this... this limbo state. He’s put off having the conversation long enough. He shoots Pepper a quick mail, telling her he’ll be working from the Tower today, directs Jarvis to send his armor to his office, and within ten minutes, is flying back home.

 

He realizes he hasn’t thought this through a couple of seconds after he knocks on Steve’s door. But Tony also realizes, right after Steve opens the door and blinks in surprise at him, that maybe that’s okay.

 

“Hey,” Tony smiles up at Steve. “Can we talk?”

 

\--

 

They sit across from each other on the dining table, cleaning their respective weapons. Bucky goes through the motions, muscle memory guiding him smoothly through disassembling, cleaning, and reassembling his gun. It’s comforting, especially since he’s doing this with Natasha. He pauses, lowering the barrel he’s been cleaning in favor of watching Natasha. She’s systematically cleaning and sharpening her knives. Her brow is furrowed as she examines the edge of the blade in her hands, frown deepening when she traces some minor imperfection on the blades and takes it back to the grinding stone.

 

She’s a beauty no matter how you slice it. But she’s always most beautiful to Bucky in moments like this - when her guard is down and there’s no one to put on a show for. Her hair is up in a messy pile that’s deteriorated over the hours. There’s a streak of oil on her forehead that’s long dried. She’s scowling over a stubborn spot that refuses to be clean, possibly not aware that she’s cursing it out in Russian under her breath.

 

Bucky grins, reaching out under the table to press his toes against her foot. Her green eyes dart up to meet his, irritation fading into curiosity when she sees his smile. She tilts her head, curiosity turning into a question that makes his smile widen. She catches his foot between both of hers, ankles rubbing together in a way that sends a ticklish sensation up his leg.

 

He presses his second foot against hers, squeezing for no other reason beyond that he can. That he has her in the same way she has him. She is his home, the person he chooses to come back to every time. Amusement is bleeding into her eyes now. She shakes her head fondly causing so many stray strands of hair to fall against her face. She pushes them back behind her ear and goes back to work.

 

Their feet are still tangled together. Content, Bucky lowers his head and goes back to work.

 

They finish cleaning their weapons, wrap up the tarp draped over the table, take a shower together, make dinner, and sit down to watch a movie. It’s an interesting story about a man and his horse and this race that they’ve taken part in. It makes him want to try riding a horse. When he says this, Natasha laughs softly. He’s in the middle of arguing that he _could_ ride a horse, thank you very much, when JARVIS informs them that someone’s at the door.

 

They exchange a quick glance. _Were you expecting someone? No._ Natasha, without looking up asks, “Who is it?”

 

“Captain Rogers. He wishes to speak with Sergeant Barnes.”

 

With a sad look towards the TV screen, Bucky presses a kiss in Natasha’s hair and stands up. “Let him in JARVIS.”

 

She stretches lazily before rising to her feet as well. As Steve walks in through their front door, she presses a kiss to his cheek and murmurs, “I’ll be in the study. You can talk here.”

 

“We can go.”

 

“It’s fine. There’s some things I need to do anyways.” She looks over at Steve with a smile. “Hey, Steve.”

 

“Nat,” Steve’s smiling sheepishly back. “Sorry for interrupting. I needed to talk with Buck real fast.”

 

“Take your time, Steve.”

 

Bucky gestures for Steve to come over, “What’s up?”

 

Steve watches Natasha walk out before he turns to his friend, a trembling smile on his lips. “Tony came to talk to me today.”

 

Bucky immediately pulls Steve down next to him on the couch. “Yeah? What’d he say?”

 

The anxious knots in his stomach loosen at the hopeful smile Steve gives him. “He’d give me another chance.”

 

There’s got to be more to the conversation than that but it’s none of his business. What matters is that there’s hope at the end of the tunnel.

 

A laugh bubbles out of him. Bucky grabs Steve’s wrist and squeezes. “That’s great, Stevie! That’s _great_!”

 

Steve returns the grip, grinning wildly. He shakes his head, voice rough. “It’s a start. I don’t know if I’ll ever manage to make him trust me fully again but I’ll try. I’ll spend my whole life trying if I need to.”

 

“I doubt it’ll be that long,” Bucky laughs again because God. That’s so dramatic. “But that’s _amazing_. I know you’ll be fine. You’ll _both_ be fine.”

 

\--

 

As soon as the judge gestures for them to sit down, Tony reaches over to grab Steve’s hand. He doesn’t care who is looking, Steve needs to know he’s not alone right now. On his left side, Natasha takes hold of Steve’s other hand and squeezes. Tony wishes they could reassure Bucky in the same way but he’s resolutely watching the judge, hands clasped tightly in his lap. He looks ready for whatever verdict that might come his way. Tony wishes he felt as calm as Bucky looks.

 

The judge shuffles a few papers around before looking over at Bucky. “I’ll keep this short. This has been the single most unique case I’ve had the privilege of overseeing during my entire career. Not just because of who it involves but the nature of the crimes committed as well.

 

From the facts presented, several things are clear to me. HYDRA created an environment where it was impossible for Sergeant Barnes to fight against his programming. And when he did break free, he accepted responsibility for his actions. I hesitate to call them his actions when he was being forced to commit crimes under duress. But the fact that he is accepting responsibility for those deaths and is ready and willing to accept whatever verdict that falls demonstrates a remarkably honest character.

 

I have seen sufficient evidence proving that prior to the events that happened in Washington, he was completely under HYDRA’s control. It is also clear to me that Sergeant Barnes has broken the hold HYDRA had over him, thanks to some of the leading minds in technology and psychology. We’re seen examples of this during the trial and that isn’t something that warrants further discussion or analysis.

 

Young man. You didn’t have to turn yourself in, stay in police custody, or put yourself through this whole trial and the world’s scrutiny. But you did. You submitted yourself into the custody of the Avengers and patiently waited to be tried. Because you were committed to doing what was right and being held accountable. Not just here in the United States but also at the international level.”

 

Steve’s hand tightens at the reminder that the International Criminal Court has kept an eagle eye on these proceedings. They all know that whatever this judge decides, will impact what happens at the ICC.

 

“Sergeant Barnes, please stand.”

 

Bucky and his lawyers rise to their feet. Tony holds his breath again, keenly aware of the heavy thump-a-thump of his heart beating away against his eardrums.

 

“It is the ruling of this court that the defense has proven without a reasonable doubt that Sergeant Barnes is not guilty of the crimes he was forced into committed under HYDRA’s commands.”

 

A _gasp_ rolls through the audience. The breath Tony had been holding, comes out in a sharp exhale. His free hand flies out to grip Steve’s arm while Steve’s hand goes slack in his. He sees Bucky _start_ in surprise. The judge catches that too, glancing over at Bucky as he continues.

 

“This court finds you not guilty on multiple indictments of first degree murder. Furthermore, this court also finds not guilty on all indictments of second degree murder. ”

 

Tony closes his eyes and presses against Steve’s shoulder in utter relief. Tears spring to his eyes even as he feels his lips part in a wild, happy grin.

 

“Furthermore,” the judge continues, “On the indictments of petty vandalism, reckless endangerment, and property destruction...”

 

He breathes in and breathes out, the tension that’s been perched on his shoulder for _weeks_ melts away. Tony can still feel his heart pounding in his chest but a soft static has numbed his ears. Through the fog, he hears the judge complete his sentence. The judge is counting the time Bucky’s spent under house arrest with the Avengers and during the trial as time already served. For the smaller indictments that were stacked, Bucky’s been sentenced to a hefty amount of community service, a fine, and the stipulation he can’t go on any Avengers missions for at least a year. After that he’ll have to pass a psych-test.

 

It’s better than their most optimistic hopes.

 

Tony pulls away when he feels Steve shift, standing to his feet. The courtroom is _abuzz_ with chatter. Tony can hear the rapid fire sound of camera shutters opening and closing as Steve steps up to the divider and grabs Bucky in a hug. Natasha is quick to step in and replace Steve, kissing the brunet fiercely before they hug. Tony grins when Bucky gestures for him to step up and accepts his hug too. As he slaps Bucky’s back, he tells the taller man, “You did it.”

 

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” Bucky murmurs back.

 

Tony pulls back, one hand resting on Bucky’s shoulder. “Let’s get you home.”

 

\--

 

Was it only less than a year ago when he’d been on the run? When he’d been all alone with the demons in his head and his heavy, aching arm? It feels like a lifetime ago. It feels like another _person_. He’s healthy, happy, _whole_ in a way he hadn’t dared to hope in those first few days of returning to New York. He’s got a girlfriend; got his best friend back; gained a whole new group of friends. And most importantly, Bucky’s gained his _freedom_.

 

He looks away from the TV when he feels Natasha’s touch on his chest. Looking down at her, Bucky catches her curious gaze. “Everything okay?” she asks in a soft whisper.

 

On screen, a dinosaur rips its way through an electric fence. Bucky ignores the movie. He ducks his head to drop a quick kiss on Natasha’s full lips. “Better than okay,” he tells her.

 

Gratitude floods him when Natasha accepts his answer and resumes snuggling him. Bucky looks around him, at Steve who is sitting on the floor between Tony’s knees and listening attentively to whatever Tony’s whispering to him, at Clint and Thor who are _inhaling_ the popcorn as they watch the movie, at Pepper and Happy cuddling on the loveseat.

 

There’s one person who Bucky wants to thank more than anyone else, and that’s Tony. He’d tried to find a moment alone with the man on the way back but failed. Bucky’s wondering if he ought to just write the man an email when Clint makes a sad whine over his empty popcorn bowl.

 

Tony rolls his eyes and holds his hand out, “Gimme that. I’ll make you some more. I want to get something to drink anyways.”

 

Clint immediately holds the bowl out with a cheerful, “You’re my favorite Avenger!”

 

“And mine,” Thor happily chimes in as he holds out his own empty bowl.

 

“Mine three,” Steve adds in cheekily as he holds up his empty plate.

 

“I’m not your mother,” Tony complains but he also accepts all the empty plates and bowls.

 

Realizing this could be his chance, Bucky jumps to his feet. “Let me help.”

 

“This is supposed be _your_ welcome home movie party,” Tony’s tone is heavy with fond exasperation. “Sit down and enjoy the show, Barnes.”

 

Natasha immediately holds out her own empty popcorn bowl, which Bucky picks up and asks Tony, “How you gonna hold this?”

 

Tony looks at the messy stack in his hands and snorts. “Fine. Come on.”

 

Natasha shoots him a quick wink and a thumbs up before she turns her attention back to the movie, pulling the afghan over her shoulders like a heavy cape. Tony starts grumbling under his breath as soon as they’re in the kitchen, openly pondering if Clint and Thor were even bothering to chew the popcorn and how he needs to develop a microwave that lets you pop more than one bag of popcorn at once when Bucky decides to just go for it.

 

“Tony.”

 

The man stops mid-way through setting the microwave’s timer. “You want some too?” Tony asks with a blink.

 

Bucky shakes his head and takes a step forward. “No, I. I just. I wanted to thank you. If it wasn’t for you...”

 

“We’ve been through this before,” Tony gently stops him. “I was happy to help.”

 

“I know but. I still... I wanted to say thanks again.”

 

With a gentle tap against his shoulder, Tony finishing punching in the time and begins tearing off the protective plastic off a new popcorn bag. “You’re welcome. If it makes you feel any better, let’s say you owe me a big favor and I’ll cash it in one day soon.”

 

Bucky nods immediately with a grateful smile. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you need.”

 

“Because I’m gonna need some help with something _big_.”

 

The way Tony looks suspiciously, nervously over Bucky’s shoulder has Bucky pausing. “Something big?” he asks curiously.

 

The nervous look deepens before Tony gestures for Bucky to come closer. Curious, Bucky steps closer. He watches Tony pull his phone out and tap on it a few times. He turns the screen towards Bucky. Bucky stares at the schematic on the screen for a moment before it clicks.

 

He glances up sharply, asking, “Is that a-”

 

“Shhhh!” Tony hisses at him, eyes darting back at Steve before he tells Bucky, “Not so loud!”

 

“ _Is that a ring_?” Bucky whispers back. “You’re gonna _make_ him a ring? Of course you are.”

 

“He deserves something special,” Tony grumbles defensively. But his expression softens with worry. “Is it too much?”

 

“No. _No_. I think it’s a great idea. But...what do you need my help for?”

 

Tony grins weakly. “Well. I’ve got a couple of designs. I’m not sure which one’s the _one_.”

 

With a breathless little laugh, Bucky slaps Tony shoulder and gives him a small shake. “I guess congratulations are in order.”

 

“I gotta ask him first,” Tony points out.

 

“No way he’ll say no. There’s no _way_.”

 

The microwave beeps loudly, indicating the popcorn is done. Tony moves to pull the fluffed out bag out and tip its contents into a deep bowl. Bucky hands over the second bag to Tony and asks, “Did you have one of those old fashioned popcorn makers?”

 

“I did. But then Clint and Bruce decided to use it for some kind of food experiment and it got gummed up with caramel, peanuts, and corn. I’ve seen softer rocks than the gunk stuck in that poor machine.”

 

That sounds...weird, possibly delicious but also confusing because why would they use...it’s so silly that Bucky can’t help but laugh. A laugh that grows and grow because he can’t believe he gets to have this. Shaking his head, Bucky grins up at Tony, who is sporting a confused grin of his own.

 

Still shaking his head, Bucky says, “Let’s get the rest of the popcorn done.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on [twitter](https://twitter.com/trustissuesinc) and/or [tunglr](http://ironswordandstarshield.tumblr.com)


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